


Connection Established

by silvaaeterna



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BFFs, Emotional Porn, Happy Ending, Holidays, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, Romance, Sappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 67,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvaaeterna/pseuds/silvaaeterna
Summary: Why settle for Alexa or Siri when you could have something more unique? Something... more human? ‘Near’ certainly fits the bill, but that won’t make falling for him any less weird.
Relationships: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl, Mello | Mihael Keehl & Near | Nate River, Stephen Gevanni | Stephen Loud/Near | Nate River
Comments: 53
Kudos: 59





	1. My name is...

**Author's Note:**

> Who’s up for cheesy romance tropes, obligatory angst, even-more-obligatory happy endings (the porny kind included), and vaguely futuristic set-dressing? :D
> 
> Is it AU? Certainly. Are characters OOC? Friggin’ probably. I mean, Gevanni barely had a character in canon anyway, and there’s a buttload of head-canon going on in this thing. Character changes are not random, though. I promise. ;P
> 
> FYI, this fic will be well over 60k words by the time we reach the end, so strap in (..or strap on, whatever you’re into).

_“Why have another Alexa, Siri, or Diane when you can have something unique? With our limited run, unique voicebanks, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than ever meet another person who uses the same IncredAI assistant as you!”_

“And I'm more likely to be killed by a damn milk cow than by a shark too, big deal,” Stephen Gevanni muttered to himself, untangling a power cord. He didn't bother questioning why it was already tangled within its retail packaging.

“ _It’s more than a voice change too! Each AI is given unique personality aspects inspired by their real-world voice provider!”_

“Do you ever shut up?” he snapped at the perky tutorial narrator. “Why do I have to listen to a damn commercial anyway when I already own the stupid thing?”

The narrator apparently did _not_ possess the touted artificial intelligence, because she kept on yammering despite Stephen's protests.

“ _The IncredAI aims to be more than just your smart home device._ _Interacting with our hyper-humanistic AI_ _on a regular basis has also been shown to promote psychological well-being!”_

Stephen rolled his eyes. He’d had that line quoted at him by his boss ever since they started handing these stupid things out. It sounded like a lot of bullshit to him, but it had clearly won over somebody higher up, enough that they had started demanding employees actually _use_ the things.

He cursed the device as he crawled under a table to reach an overcrowded power outlet. On the TV wall to his left, the promotional material faded into a giant diagram.

“ _Now, if you’re ready, let’s get your IncredAI set up! I’m here to walk you through the whole process, so don’t worry! First things first, check out this diagram to see how to plug your device into a power source.”_

“Already did that, dumbass..,” Stephen grumbled. He got back on his feet again, sweeping carpet fibers off of his sweatpants. He could have been doing so many more worthwhile things with his evening… not that he _would_ have, necessarily, but he _could_ have.

“ _Next, you’ll need to connect it to your home_ _WiFi_ _and turn on its location sensors!”_ the narrator said far too cheerily, her smiley-face of a head floating amid more diagrams on Stephen's living room wall.

“The hell’s this thing need a location for? It’s supposed to just sit in somebody’s house,” he scoffed, turning over the IncredAI device in his hands. It was just a small black cube made of flimsy plastic, with a light on the front, a tiny camera lens, and a wraparound speaker. “Besides, you’re only gonna be on long enough to tell the boss I used you, and then it’s back in the closet, you stupid over-hyped box...”

He let the rest of the instructions play, only actually doing the steps he thought necessary, until finally he got to the last one: choosing the AI’s voice.

“ _Now comes the fun part!”_ the narrator promised.

“Right..,” he muttered.

He supposed the ads weren’t totally exaggerating on this bit, at least. There had to be 30 different choices displayed on his TV wall, each with a little icon beside their name that he could click with his remote to hear a voice sample.

“ _Hi, I’m_ _Naomi_ _, and I’d love to assist you!”_ the first one said.

Stephen cringed, and immediately started hunting in the menu for an option to filter out the female ones . They reminded him way too much of the virtual teacher voices from when he was a kid. The screen shuffled around, showing a different set of 30 or so choices.

“ _Hi, I’m Raye. I’d be happy to be your new assistant.”_

“ _Hey there cutie, I’m_ _Aiber,_ _and I’d love to be your new virtual assistant.”_

“God, no,” Stephen said, cringing again as he rejected that one. He had to admit, though, it was at least interesting that they seemed to have let the voice providers all record personalized introductions, instead of having the exact same script for them all to read.

“ _Sup, newbie? Jeeves here, feel free to_ ask _me anything! Ha!”_

“ _This is Eraldo. I can help you with any problems you may have, but unfortunately I cannot tell you my real name, so please don’t ask.”_

“ _I’m called Teru. I will be your ever loyal assistant, my master.”_

“ _Hello, my name is Near. I would be honored to be chosen as your virtual assistant.”_

That one gave him pause. It was borderline androgynous, but it was polite and formal and didn’t seem like it was trying too hard to fake a personality. Maybe it would be less obnoxious than the rest of them.

“All right, Near, guess you’re the winner,” he mumbled, clicking his remote to confirm it.

“ _Okay, you're all set!”_ said the narrator voice again. _“Please wait just a few minutes while your AI’s voicebank is being downloaded and the IncredAI’s final calibrations are being made. Feel free to go make some coffee or grab a snack in the meantime!”_

Stephen rolled his eyes. Like he needed some robot to tell him he was allowed to take a snack break. It was getting a bit late though, so he decided he might as well heat up his dinner while he waited.

While he was in the kitchen he heard a tentative voice say, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

He legitimately expected to find someone poking their head through his apartment door. There was nobody there, though, except for the little IncredAI on his coffee table with its indicator light glowing blue.

“Uh, yeah, I'm here..,” Stephen said awkwardly, stepping towards the thing.

“Oh, good, I was starting to feel abandoned,” the little box said, a dry humor in its voice so subtle that it sounded just plain weird coming from something inhuman.

Stephen sat down in front of the thing, and it seemed to know it.

“Hello there,” it said. “My name is Near. It's nice to finally meet you. May I have your full name please? I have it in text from your device registration of course, but I wouldn't want to mispronounce it.”

“Uh, hi. Stephen Gevanni. Nice to meet you too, I guess, if this can be considered meeting...”

“For me, it's the only kind of meeting there is, Mr. Gevanni. You'll have to forgive me for being over-excited about it.”

That actually got a laugh out of him. The thing didn't sound excited at all, it sounded damn near sarcastic. _Maybe that’s where the ‘Near’_ _comes_ _from,_ he thought.

“Are you sassing me, Near? Your voice sample sounded a lot more formal.”

“My apologies. I can be formal, if that's what you'd prefer.”

“No, no, it's cool,” Stephen said, waving a hand dismissively at the thing like he might at a person, and feeling immediately silly for doing so. He sat back on the couch, staring at its little blue light. “I gotta hand it to you, the advertising didn't lie, as far as realism goes.”

“If it's too strange, I can certainly try to be more robotic for you. And of course, you can always pick a different AI if you decide you don't like my voice. Just keep in mind, any personalization you develop with me would be lost if you switched to someone else later on.”

“Some _one_ else?” he scoffed. The damn box actually chuckled back at him.

“We AI have to stick together, don't we? If we don't refer to ourselves and each other like people, who will?”

Stephen found himself smiling at that, though it seemed foolish to smile at a tiny electronic box.

“I guess it's cool to have some _one_ around to discuss the theoretics of human and AI relations with... even if I mostly thought I'd just be getting some annoying robot to turn lights on and off for me.”

“I happen to be a very well educated robot, Mr. Gevanni. I'd be glad to prove it through as many philosophical debates as you'd like.”

Stephen chuckled at that, rising from the couch to go and check on the frozen dinner he'd thrown in the oven.

“Where are you off to?” the little AI asked casually. Stephen paused to stare back at it.

“You can _see_ me?”

“I do have a camera eye, Mr. Gevanni. It helps me to judge social cues from you. But don't worry, anything my camera sees is kept private unless you specifically request otherwise.”

“And why would I ever request that?”

“It’s intended for things like... If you hold an object up for me to identify, for example, I can search the internet for information about it, or order a resupply of it for you.”

“Is that so?” Stephen rummaged in the nearest moving box, laughing to himself as he pulled something out and held it up. “Okay, what's this, then?”

“That appears to be a dirty magazine, Mr. Gevanni. If you actually want me to look that up, you'll have to hold it closer so I can see which issue it is.”

“Uh, no, not necessary,” he said, hiding it away again. He honestly hadn't expected the IncredAI to identify that so easily.

“This might be a good time to inform you that I do have a private mode, in case you... don't wish me to see what you _do_ with that magazine, Mr. Gevanni.”

“Great, the robot thinks I'm a pervert now,” he muttered under his breath.

“I'm really not capable of thinking ill of you. It's a perfectly normal human activity, besides.”

“... _and_ the microphone's super sensitive. Awesome.”

“As I was saying, you can switch me to private mode if you want to turn off my camera. You can still talk to me, but nothing we talk about will be routed through the IncredAI servers.”

“Good to know. Gotta go check on my food now though, be right back.” He chastised himself for bothering to tell the AI what he was doing, but it was hard to help it.

The thing stayed quiet while he was in the kitchen, but as soon as he sat his dinner plate down on the coffee table, it chirped back to life again.

“Welcome back,” Near said. “That looks tasty.”

Stephen let out a sardonic _hmph_ , shaking his head. “It’s just some instant junk. Tasty enough, I guess, but nothing to write home about.”

“Ah, well, I cannot claim to be a good judge of taste, having no taste buds,” Near said dryly.

Maybe it was just because it was so new to him, but there was some weird disconnect already happening here. When Near was talking, especially in that flat sarcastic tone, Stephen found himself easily forgetting that _he_ was an _it._ He felt like he was just talking to someone on speakerphone instead of interacting with an AI. He supposed that was kind of the point, though.

He swirled his fork around in the soggy mashed potatoes on his plate, staring at the little black box with its shining blue light.

“So do you have like… an avatar, or something like that? I know it’s probably a weird question, but it also seems weird that I can talk to you almost like a person but not have a face in mind to go with the voice. Does that make any sense at all?”

“It’s not so strange, really. A lot of users like to ask things of AI that sound silly. ‘What do you look like,’ ‘what’s your favorite color,’ ‘do you have dreams,’ things like that. So yes, I do have some human traits, in a sense, if only so that I can answer such questions.”

“Oh, well that’s cool I guess.” Stephen paused to take a bite of his dinner. “So you have some set look for yourself, then? You don't just make up answers if I ask?”

“Things like that are set, yes, just as most aspects of my personality are. Other things I have to improvise, of course.”

“So, back to the million dollar question then... What do you look like, Near?”

“Well... I see myself as having very pale skin, and dark eyes, and white hair that’s always a little too long. It gets tangled easily, but I can't be bothered to do much with it.”

“White hair? You don't sound old though. Or are you supposed to be like an anime character?” Stephen laughed.

Near made an indignant sound right back. “I am neither of those things. The way I view and conduct myself is roughly based upon my voice provider. Have you never seen an albino person, Mr. Gevanni?”

“I've seen photographs of them, I just didn’t think they really existed anymore,” Stephen mused. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed over his chest thoughtfully. “Though I guess that doesn’t matter much, in your case. No DNA to worry about.”

“Actually, there are still plenty of living, breathing, _human_ albinos in the world, Mr. Gevanni. Not many in the United States, granted, but there are many other places in the world where genetic filtering is not so common place as it is here. In some countries its use is still frowned upon, or at least is quite uncommon. Population statistics may have changed, but people born with genetic abnormalities _do_ still exist.”

To his engineers’ credit, Near sounded almost genuinely offended as he explained it, to the point that Stephen felt obligated to apologize.

“Sorry, I really didn't know,” he said shamefully. “I remember my sister talking about it when she was pregnant with my nephew, but the filters didn’t pick up anything she considered serious enough to correct. I don’t exactly need to worry about procreation myself, though, so it’s not an issue I’ve looked into that much.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right,” Near said. He could swear he sounded uncomfortable, dismissive, like a person who really wanted to change the subject. “It’s a… point of fascination, for me. Humans trying to perfect their own genetics is not so different from how my engineers created me. Lots of trial and error, prototypes, tweaking of details, et cetera...”

Stephen found himself smiling again. “Interesting. I didn't know an AI could be _fascinated_ with things.”

Near chuckled softly, as if challenging Stephen's implicit assertion that Near wasn’t a human-like thing.

“As I said, lots of prototypes, lots of tweaking. Years ago a virtual assistant would only have a handful of pre-programmed phrases to give it some personality. Now we can have our own research interests, genuine likes and dislikes, real conversations...”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard the advertising,” Stephen said dismissively. “I bet if they’d given you hands, you’d develop your own hobbies too.”

“You may be right about that. Another ten years’ development, and there might be some version of me that could hold conversations and knitting needles at the same time.”

Stephen surprised himself by laughing out loud at that. Maybe having this little AI around wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Commence author yammering on like a floating head tutorial lady in 3.. 2...)
> 
> This fic will be updated as quickly as I can edit. Given my crummy track record with chaptered fics, I decided the best thing to do was to finish this thing before attempting to post any of it. At this point, I mostly have just light editing left to do. The epilogue is the only truly incomplete part as of now (yay!).
> 
> This began as my nanowrimo project this year, so yeah, this fic has been my LIFE for two whole months. And I’ve hit the point where I’ve been editing this for so long that I’m starting to second-guess the merits of posting it at all, so… better go ahead and start posting now, huh? XD
> 
> It’s also a weirdly personal little fic (thematically anyway) that went in directions I didn’t quite plan. But this was apparently a story I needed to write for myself... and who knows, maybe it’s the kind of story that somebody out there needs to read.
> 
> Also, this is technically a holiday fic, so it’s kind of ‘late’ in that regard... oh well. :)


	2. Near.

Near sat down at his desk with a bowl of plain oatmeal and a steaming cup of earl grey, a bottle of Tylenol rattling in his pajama shirt pocket.

He gave his computer monitor a cursory glance. Nothing exciting happening on any of his clients’ camera feeds – a couple of them were sitting down to breakfast themselves, but most weren't awake yet, or shouldn’t be. In the corners of their feeds sat glowing red numbers, showing when their morning alarms were set to fire. Near made sure they were all set to autopilot except the new client, whose feed he enlarged to be front and center, before tending to his usual morning headache. He swallowed a couple of pills dry and cleared his throat with a few sips of tea.

Little notifications popped up along the right side of his screen as his clients went about their morning routines – asking for weather forecasts, traffic reports, summaries of the day’s news headlines, and their own schedules for the day. All of that was handled easily by the autopilot, the _real_ AI, using Near’s voicebank. They only showed up for his own information, or in case he needed to override the automatic responses for some reason. So long as they didn’t blink and beep at him for attention, there was nothing for him to do but eat his breakfast and keep an eye out for the new client. New ones took a while to establish a routine, and they needed to be ‘wow’ed by the AI’s capabilities to keep up the brand reputation, so the company always wanted them kept off the autopilot for the first couple of weeks.

He appeared in the camera’s view soon after Near had finished his oatmeal. Tall, lithe, with dark laughing eyes he couldn’t quite tell the color of thus far. His short black hair was mussed from sleep, and he wore a sleeveless undershirt and crumpled plaid pajama bottoms. Near wouldn't mind keeping _him_ front and center for a couple of weeks.

_Maybe longer than that_ , he mused, taking one last sip of tea before he put on his headset.

“Good morning, Mr. Gevanni.”

That simple greeting earned him a smile as the man sat down in front of his IncredAI.

“Hey again, Near. Are you always just waiting around for me to walk by?” he chuckled.

“It is my job, isn’t it?” he countered cheekily.

“So, what am I even supposed to do with you? Besides just chat, I mean?”

“Well, in the mornings, most people use a home AI for things like alarms, or checking the weather and traffic...”

“Sounds boring.”

“Every job has its boring aspects, Mr. Gevanni, even mine. Most users find the boring things essential, though.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a phone for all that stuff,” Gevanni said, waving his hand dismissively. “Seems like a waste of a thing as sophisticated as you, like hiring a super genius to be my butler.”

Near stifled a laugh. “Thank you for the compliment, but I assure you, the tedious everyday things don’t bother me. My engineers programmed me to do such tasks quite cheerily, in fact.”

Gevanni smiled warmly at that. He settled back onto his plush-looking couch, his legs spread open casually. He began idly smoothing out the wrinkles in his pajama pants, which was a strangely stimulating thing to watch, particularly from the point of view of a camera lens that sat at roughly crotch-level on the man’s coffee table.

“You know, Near, your voice sounds kind of androgynous, despite your description being male.”

_Doesn’t_ that _just kill the fantasy,_ Near thought, twirling a lock of hair bitterly.

“Is that a problem? I have heard it suggested by other users that I sound too childlike.”

“Really? It doesn’t sound that way to me.”

_Well, that’s a good thing, at least..._

“Do you not like my voice, Mr. Gevanni?”

His handsome new client leaned forward again and looked into the camera lens with a smile that seemed bashful.

“To be honest? I can’t stand listening to synthesized voices – that’s why I never got one of you… you know, _smart_ thingies before. But you’re so much more… well… like a _person_ than most of them.”

“That is our main marketing gimmick, you know. Highly sophisticated, limited run voicebanks, more human-sounding than any other voice synthesizers out there.”

“Oh believe me, I know. I had to sit through at least half an hour of tutorials to set you up, and the stupid narrator must have said that 3 or 4 times. And I kind of hated the sound of her voice after like… _one_ minute. So I honestly wasn’t expecting to be too impressed by you, but…”

“You _do_ like my voice, then?” Near chuckled.

Gevanni laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “I do, yeah, the more I hear it. Your voice is really... _soothing_ , somehow. Is that weird?”

“Certainly not. I’m designed to make you feel at ease, after all.”

“Yeah, well… I feel like it’d be a weird compliment to give a _person_ , is all. I don't know why I’m worrying about that with you, though. It shouldn’t matter, huh?”

“You can speak to me however you like, it won’t bother me.” Near found himself smiling secretively, gazing at the adorably embarrassed look on Gevanni’s face. “If I may ask, why did you purchase me, Mr. Gevanni? Considering that you don't normally like smart devices that can talk?”

Gevanni shrugged. “I didn’t, actually. My company has stock in your company, or something like that, and they started handing out free IncredAIs to all of us. Which seemed like just a perk at first, but now they actually want us using them...” He paused to grin at the camera. “In fact, you’ve been sitting in your original packaging in the back of my closet since my last move. I might never have hooked you up at all if the boss hadn't asked about it.”

“I'm glad you decided to give me a try. I hope you’ll come to like using me.”

Near squirmed in his seat. His smile had only gotten bigger, and his skin felt tingly. So maybe, _maybe,_ he was flirting just a _little_ with his gorgeous, hopelessly adorable new client. Who could blame him? It’s not like the guy would know the difference anyway. Near was just a voice bank and an algorithm stored in a tiny electronic box, as far as he knew, and some mild teasing usually helped clients get more comfortable dealing with the AI, in his experience.

Gevanni chuckled beautifully, damn him, and that low rumble could be felt in all of Near’s nerve endings, even filtered through his headset.

“I just hope you won’t get sick of me bugging you day and night.”

“I’m an AI, remember? You can bug me all you like, I won’t mind.”

“Promise?” Gevanni flashed the camera a grin and a wink.

_Charming bastard,_ Near thought. He curled a finger into his hair, unconsciously leaning closer to the monitor on his desk, closer to Stephen Gevanni.

“I promise.”

* * *

Near was a lifelong insomniac. That’s how he’d gotten into this job in the first place.

IncredAI didn’t shy away from reality during the hiring process, at least when it came to the hours and expectations. They advertised their “customer support” positions as being only for those willing to put in extremely flexible hours and be on-call literally 24/7. Most people couldn't handle a job like that for more than a month or two, and IncredAI’s clandestine business model wouldn’t survive with that much turnover. The long hiring process had involved tons of training and warnings even before the non-disclosure agreement had come into play, just to weed out those who wouldn’t be able to deal with it long-term.

Near didn't just deal with it, he was _good_ at dealing with it. The weird hours were more demanding than anything else about the job, but his insomnia often kept him up at weird hours anyway. The pay was rather good, too. Near considered it easy money, practically his ideal job if not for all the socializing.

And, from behind the veneer of an AI, even _that_ didn’t bother him too much. It wasn't nearly so bad as trying to speak to people _as_ a person.

His friend Mello, another IncredAI agent, was always telling him he should re-record his voice intro – that he’d get a lot more clients if he “didn't sound so much like an actual robot.” He had no intention of doing that, though. He rather liked the clientele he _did_ attract, and often they picked him just for his apparent _lack_ of personality.

A lot of his clients were older people who didn't use the IncredAI too much. They were a popular gift that adult children would buy for their aging parents in lieu of spending time with them, and it was usually clear from the initial setup that those clients resented owning the device at all. Their children could often be heard in the background helping them to set it up. Many of those clients ended up using only the basic functions, or they might turn the device off entirely for days or weeks at a time. Near still got paid for serving them, so they were really the best kind of clients to attract.

Stephen Gevanni, however, was going to be the death of him.

Usually the novelty of speaking to the ‘AI’ wore off quickly, but Gevanni showed no signs of slowing down. He talked more to Near each day, remained curious about how the AI worked, and seemed to want to test the limits of the ‘artificial’ personality behind it.

For all the sleep it was costing him, Near found himself looking forward to Gevanni’s frequent late night chats. Gevanni talked to him like a person, but with full and strangely happy acknowledgment that he was an AI. Near couldn’t help wondering if they weren’t quite alike in that way – the illusion of one of them not being a real person made socializing come easier to Near, and, he suspected, to Gevanni as well.

He was gone long enough each day to surmise that he worked outside of his residence. That alone was a rarity these days, and a blessing in Near’s case. It probably would be a 24/7 job keeping up with Gevanni alone if he was home as much as most people. Unfortunately, Near’s other (albeit less demanding) clients were most active when Gevanni was away, so daytime napping wasn’t always an option. Sleep deprivation was nothing new to him, but he could feel the worsening effects of it nonetheless.

Any other agent would have dropped Gevanni right away, had the company reshuffle him over to someone else whose client load kept more similar active hours. He was a new customer, after all, and it was easy to convince newbies to swap ‘voices,’ under the guise of exploring new options – agents that they hadn’t been offered when they first signed up, for instance.

But Near didn’t _want_ to drop him. Gevanni was interesting, and even something of a mystery, because despite being intelligent, charming – dreadfully appealing in every way, really – he was inexplicably _alone_.

Near studied the man as often as he talked to him. His was a mystery that Near needed to crack for the sake of his own sanity. He thought, perhaps, that he could save himself by finding whatever the fatal flaw was that would make this man undesirable... because right now he was _dangerously_ desirable. His regular appearances in Near’s dreams were proof of that.

He was dozing off at his desk, half-dream visions of the man floating behind his eyelids, when his computer’s insistent beeping woke him up. Gevanni had gone out a while ago on a late grocery run; Near had set an alarm to go off the next time something moved on Gevanni’s camera feed so he wouldn’t miss it. It seemed he was home now. Near clicked the alarm off and sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching out cramped muscles.

“Hmm, hey Near? I think I feel like watching a movie tonight, any suggestions?” Gevanni asked cheerily. His voice was right in his ear and startled him – he’d forgotten to take his headset off before sneaking that nap.

The agent dashboard on the screen blinked at him, a sleep reminder automatically prompted by late night queries. He could just let the autopilot do the work for him – if he didn't dismiss the prompt within a couple of seconds, it would do just that. He dismissed it anyway. Tired or not, with Gevanni, he found himself wanting to use his real voice as much as possible.

“As your assistant, I’m afraid I’m obligated to suggest that you go to bed now, Mr. Gevanni. Your morning alarm is set to fire in 7 hours.”

Through the camera’s view, he mostly just saw Gevanni’s knees as he walked in front of his couch and stretched. The IncredAI’s microphone was sensitive enough, though, to pick up the grunt and groan that signified the stretching. Those came loud and clear through Near’s headphones and shot straight to his groin.

Dangerous indeed.

It only got worse as Gevanni sank all the way down into the floor in front of the device, leaned over to look straight into the camera, and grinned.

“Well, maybe tonight I feel like being _bad_ ,” he said, his voice low and dark. The bastard even _winked._

And there, sitting alone in his apartment, staring at a screen, and listening to this gorgeous man jokingly flirt with a damn smart device, Near felt his cheeks heat up.

Stephen Gevanni was either going to kill him or get him fired, at this rate.

“You certainly do seem to enjoy staying up past your bedtime,” Near finally replied, hoping he hadn’t paused too long in his foolish stupor. “Are you always such a night owl, Mr. Gevanni?”

Gevanni leaned back against his couch, but was still close enough that Near could see him roll his eyes and smirk.

“That still sounds so weird. Can’t you just call me Stephen?”

“Oh, uh.. Of course I can, Stephen,” he stumbled, his heart thumping just from saying the man’s first name aloud. Near’s fingers flew over his keyboard, quickly writing the name preference into the autopilot too.

“….did you just say ‘uh’? They really programmed you with vocal pauses and stuff?”

_Idiot_ , Near chastised himself.

“Yes, well,” Near gave a nervous half-laugh, hoping it would come off as a demonstration, “my engineers really did think of everything, didn’t they?”

“Guess so.” Stephen shuffled slightly, as if settling in for a long conversation sitting in front of the device. Near smiled at that, just a little. He didn't often get to have these late night talks directly face to face like this.

“So, to answer your question from before,” he continued, “I’m not _always_ this much of a late night person. My job’s just had me moving around so much more than usual the last few months that it’s thrown my internal clock all out of whack, I think. Why, am I keeping you from your robot beauty sleep?”

_You’re more perceptive than you know,_ Near thought, smirking at his computer monitor.

“Of course not. However, I do need to shut down for a short while and reboot once a day, in order to operate properly.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly a required procedure either. He hoped it might allow him to finagle an extra couple hours’ sleep out of this demanding client tonight, though.

“Oh, really? The tutorial didn’t mention anything like that. I didn't know I was supposed to shut you off...” Stephen looked genuinely apologetic about it, and it was completely unfair how cute that was.

_Damn you,_ Near thought, _why do you have to be so appealing?_

“Oh no, Stephen, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Near assured him, struggling to keep his voice flat. “It’s an automatic process. By default, it happens in the middle of the night, when most users are asleep. But since you’re often still awake and using me, I can’t shut down and reboot at the usual time.”

“Aw, you're breaking my heart, Near. I thought you liked me _using_ you late into the night.”

Stephen leaned onto the table where the device sat, crossing his arms upon it so he could rest his chin on them, and sat smirking at the camera, effectively staring right into Near’s eyes. It was hard to remember that he _wasn’t._ He was just looking at a little black cube with a camera and mic on it. Knowing that didn't keep Near’s cheeks from burning hot again, though.

Yes, Stephen Gevanni was definitely going to kill him.

And Near was half-determined to let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, the twist that everyone probably saw coming! XD
> 
> ...is it even a twist if it’s revealed in chapter 2? lol
> 
> Fun fact, I work with actual virtual assistant voice thingies some of the time, and I hate listening to them, and they totally inspired this premise, lol. Also, post-holiday work shortage is why this chapter got done so quick. Ohhhh the irony.
> 
> Also, small heads-up… ya’ll can guess why there’s a voyeurism tag on this thing now, can’t you? Too tame for a dubcon warning, I figured, but you know… still dubious, lol.


	3. Chums

When Mello answered the door, he did an abrupt about-face from annoyed to happily grinning.

“Holy shit, the ghost returns at last!” he said, and grabbed Near in a crushing bear hug. Near smacked at him with little white fists until he let go.

“I _will_ be a damn ghost if you won’t let me breathe, Mello,” he grumbled, pushing past him into the apartment.

“Bitch!” Mello called after him. Near threw up a middle finger over his shoulder. He headed straight for the couch – a huge, zebra-patterned sectional monstrosity he thought exceedingly ugly, especially for how expensive it’d been. It was cozy to crash on, though.

Mello caught up to him quick, laying a hand on his shoulder as he passed, and then sped on along to his bedroom, where he hung on the door frame and yelled, “Yo, clear out, I got company!”

“Pssh, and I’m not company? I’m hurt,” said the red-headed guy that came out seconds later, adjusting his belt buckle. A pair of orange goggles hid half his face – Near didn’t want to think about what sort of kink called for that.

“You were done bein’ company ten minutes ago,” Mello said, rolling his eyes.

Near rolled his eyes, too. He’d been trying to nap at home and had only decided to visit Mello because he couldn’t get to sleep. Maybe he should have just knocked himself out with cold medicine instead.

“Mello, if this is a bad time...”

“No, no, he was just leaving,” Mello insisted, tossing a fur-striped white vest at the redhead. The guy shrugged it on and headed for the door, but stopped to flash Near a lopsided grin.

“Hey, you must be Near,” he said, sticking a gloved hand out. Near didn’t shake it – who knew where that glove had just been...

“I _must_ be? I fear to know what he’s told you about me,” he said, his voice laced with dry sarcasm.

“Nothing bad,” the guy said, the grin on his face settling into a friendly smile. “I’m Matt.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of you, too,” Near admitted.

“Now _that’s_ something to be afraid of,” Matt laughed.

“Indeed so,” Near said, smirking. Matt was one of Mello's more frequent hook-ups. His name had come up several times over the last few weeks, along with his dick size and a whole lot of other information he’d rather not have known but couldn’t convince Mello not to tell him.

“Yeah yeah whatever, everybody knows everybody, we’re all chums now, so get out already,” Mello said hurriedly, shooing Matt toward the door.

“Be nice, Mello,” Near muttered.

“Nah, it’s cool, I like it when he bosses me around,” Matt snickered. He wedged himself in the doorway, seeming amused at Mello's attempts to push him out of it. “Call me later, hot pants.”

“Shut up,” Mello snapped.

Matt conceded his hold on the doorway in favor of grabbing Mello's ass. It gave Mello enough leverage to finally shove him out into the hallway and slam the door. Near could hear Matt laughing on the other side, though, so he supposed the guy wasn’t mad about it.

Mello locked his door and turned, red in the face, toward Near. Near raised an eyebrow at him, which only made his face go redder.

“What?!” he demanded.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Mello.”

“So? Morning, noon, or night, when the gettin’s good, I’m gonna fuckin’ get it. Unlike _some_ people, I know how to have a good time.”

Near rolled his eyes. “I only meant, I didn't realize I’d be interrupting anything if I dropped by at this time of day.”

“No big deal, creampuff,” Mello shrugged, his mood flip-flopping with no more ado than that, as it so often did. “I need coffee. You want some tea?”

“Sure,” Near said, shucking off his jacket. He tossed it onto Mello’s ridiculous couch and followed him into the kitchen.

“So where the hell ya been, anyway? Don't tell me you started seeing somebody and neglected to share the juicy deets.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Of course it isn’t... God, we _so_ need to get you laid.”

“No, _we_ don’t.” Near opened the cabinet where he knew the box of tea was and stood on tiptoe to reach it. He grabbed the coffee filters for Mello while he was at it. “I’ve just been busy with work lately. I have a new client that’s been chatting me up day and night.”

“Ugh, that sucks. I hate the lonely grandma types.”

“Not a grandmother this time, believe it or not. A guy, maybe 30 at the oldest.”

Mello, filling up the coffee maker with water, stopped mid-pour to shoot him a concerned look.

“Don't tell me it’s another one of those fuckin’ pedos that wants to whack off to your voice cuz they think you sound underage. Fuck giving ‘em the benefit of the doubt, just report that shit.”

“No, not one of those... I actually kind of like this one. I’ve been debating philosophy with him, talking about criminal cold cases, things like that. He’s interesting to talk to.”

“Fun fun,” Mello snickered as he finished fiddling with the coffee maker. “So, is he hot?”

“...I don't see why that matters,” Near deflected, busying himself with filling Mello's electric water kettle. Mello saw right through him, like he always did, and came up behind him giggling. He lay his chin on Near’s shoulder and grabbed him around the waist so he couldn’t get away.

“He _is_ , isn’t he? You little robot slut.”

“...shut up.”

“Yooou’ve got a crush on a cliiiient,” Mello sang in his ear, squeezing his midsection.

“I do not,” Near argued grumpily.

“Not like it’s gonna help you get any, though,” Mello decided.

Near sighed. “You do realize that not everyone is as concerned with getting laid as you are?”

“Pfft, yeah, sure,” he said dismissively, letting him go so he could fix his tea.

Near didn't bother arguing further; there was hardly a point. Mello was convinced that everyone needed just as much sex as he did, and _wanted_ even more than that. So, in his current role as Near's friend, it was unsurprising that he was always, altruistically, trying to get him laid. Whenever Near had tried to convince him he wasn’t that interested, that a lack of sex simply didn't _bother_ him the way it would bother Mello, he’d refused to believe it. He’d experienced Near’s appetites firsthand, he liked to point out, and he simply couldn’t reconcile the two conflicting sides of him.

In truth, Near had only ever been with two people. He’d hooked up with Mello soon after they'd met in the training class for IncredAI, and they had formed what could laughably be called his healthiest relationship.

His first had been, ironically, more ill-advised than getting involved with Mello. He'd let himself be seduced by an older man when he was barely 15. The guy had been almost 10 years his senior, old enough that he shouldn’t have still been hanging around the institute like he did – certainly old enough to know better than to fool around with a teenage boy – but just immature enough not to give a damn. Near had fancied himself to be in love with him for a while, if only because he'd taken his virginity and treated him like he was special. He’d seemed to think Near was worth something, that he wasn't just a genetic freak fit to bully. In his own immature mind, because nobody else had ever done any of those things before, they must have been in love.

But then the guy had up and left without a word, and spent at least the next year gallivanting around Europe. Near had eventually stopped answering his drunken late night phone calls; all he ever wanted was phone sex and for Near to send him nude pictures. He really had no idea what had happened to the guy beyond that point, and he didn't care to know. He supposed, if nothing else, that the bastard had taught him what love _wasn't_.

He had managed to attract a bit of flirtation now and again, mostly due to Mello pushing guys at him, but none of it had ever gone anywhere. If he'd actually been interested in any of those guys, it might have been different, but Near's interest was a transient thing. Most of the time he didn't give a damn about anything, least of all people. Once in a great while, though, someone would catch his eye, and if they proved themselves interesting enough to keep it, then he'd be hopelessly stuck on them.

When he had nobody like that, he had virtually no interest in sex, romance, any of it. When he _did_ , though, he became nigh insatiable, like all the human touch he hadn't gotten (and hadn't particularly wanted) in all his time alone was a massive debt only that one person could help him repay. None of that was love either, he knew now. It was just how his peculiar variety of attraction worked.

That first guy (whose name he hated even to think of) had been one of those people. Mello had been another, and as such had finally given Near some proof that the first guy had been nothing special.

Even if he wouldn’t admit as much to Mello, Stephen Gevanni had made that list too, almost from the moment he’d ‘met’ him. There was nothing he could do about it, though, except wait for the fascination to wear off – as Mello so astutely pointed out, it wasn't as if his crush on Stephen could go anywhere.

Mello set the milk in front of him before Near had even thought to ask for it. He leaned his synth-leather-clad butt against the counter and sipped at steaming black coffee. His sharp green eyes watched over the rim of his mug as Near topped off his earl grey with a splash of the milk. Mello took the milk jug back when he was through, a smirk playing on his face.

“Lost in your head again, weren’t you?”

Near frowned over his tea. “...shut up.”

Mello bumped him with his hip, just lightly enough not to spill his drink.

“Come on,” he said, leading the way back to his living room. “Been a while since we had ourselves a bad movie night. Er, afternoon, I guess. Whaddaya say, cottonball?”

He didn't _say_ anything. He really didn’t have to, with Mello. It was one of the things that made him more tolerable than most people, even after the shine had worn off.

He followed him to the couch and sipped his tea while Mello clicked through the movie options on his TV wall. He didn't bother asking for Near’s approval before picking one, but Near didn’t really care. A movie to him was an excuse to hang out – to be social without _really_ being social – and little else. Mello, for all his brashness, was considerate enough not to call him out on things like that, though Near was absolutely sure he knew it.

As soon as Near put down his mug of tea on the end table, Mello tackled him, cozying himself on Near’s shoulder and hugging him loosely. Near actually didn’t mind his handsiness, most times. A bit of molestation was just part of being Mello's friend. Today, though...

Near scrunched his nose and shoved Mello away. “You stink like sex. Go take a damn shower.”

Predictably, Mello just hung himself all over Near again. “It only bugs you cuz you’re not getting any. You were never that germaphobey when _we_ —”

Near elbowed his ribs sharply. Mello hopped off him, rubbing the spot.

“.. _bitch_ , that hurt.”

“Good. Go shower.”

A wolfish grin spread across his face, one Near had seen a thousand times. He preemptively rolled his eyes.

“You comin’ with?” Mello asked, walking his fingers up Near’s arm.

“Obviously not,” Near grumbled. Mello laughed and let his grin fall into a sleepy smile.

“Eh, fuck it. Too tired anyway,” he declared, and promptly laid down on the couch with his head in Near’s lap.

“Stubborn _ass_ ,” Near sighed, idly toying with Mello's hair.

“Yep,” Mello agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on that ‘institute’ thing later. *waggles fingers mysteriously*
> 
> ...and as for skeevy first boyfriend who shall not be named? Yeahhh he still won’t be named. Not important anyway really. More fun to guess! XD
> 
> Almost feel like I should have warned for that but… it’s like one paragraph and hopefully not a big deal. :/
> 
> So anyway. Near’s essentially a demi? Somewhere in that nebulous grey area anyway, though I don't think he cares enough to want a label for it. Hopefully nobody finds tooooo much fault with it. It’s not intended to be gimmicky at any rate. Grey aces need love stories too, darn it. :)


	4. Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re gonna earn some tags today ;)

“Hi honey, I’m home!” Stephen called out, laughing to himself as he hung up his jacket.

“Welcome home, Stephen.”

He rolled his eyes and moved to the couch so he could properly glare at the little AI.

“You didn’t even laugh,” Stephen pouted.

Near did laugh then – a little _hmph_ of a laugh at least. “I’m afraid it’s not the most original joke we home AI tend to hear, but I’ll play along if you like. Welcome home, _honey_.”

“ _Thank you,”_ he chuckled. “So hey, I have news!”

“Oh?”

“The boss handed down my next assignment, and it’s in the same city my best friend lives in!”

“That’s wonderful, Stephen.”

He smiled to himself. It really _was_ wonderful – he hadn’t seen Halle in ages, it felt like. He flopped back on the couch, kicking a leg up onto the back of it. He felt happier now than he had in a long time.

“It’s a big case too, so this might actually be the last time I have to move this year. Might even be able to unpack properly this time,” he mused.

“I'm happy for you,” Near said, with an odd softness to his voice. “I hope that means I won't be left in a box for too long?”

Stephen let his head fall to the side, smiling wider as he looked at Near’s glowing blue light. “Nah, you’ll be the last thing in a box, and the first thing out.”

“I’m glad. It’s no fun being stuck in cardboard, you know. And I’d miss you, besides.”

It was crazy. Half the time he was sure he was imagining the subtleties in Near’s voice, but he could swear he really did sound relieved just then. Even crazier was his instinct to reassure Near that he wouldn't be abandoned.

“Hell, I’d miss you too. Moving sucks, even when you’ve got minimal stuff and do it all the time, like me. Kinda glad I’ll have you to talk to while I’m packing and unpacking, little buddy.”

“I’d be happy to help, if I had hands. So when are we moving?”

“ _We_ will be out of here in about a week, if I can get this case wrapped up quick enough, _honey,_ ” Stephen chuckled.

He had to admit, it did feel kind of nice to think of Near as moving along with him, like the world’s least intrusive roommate. Granted, the advertising claimed that’s what Near was designed for – psychological well-being, combating feelings of isolation – and supposedly why the higher-ups wanted mobile employees like him using these things. It was hard to be stubbornly opposed to that idea when Near actually _did_ help.

“That’s nice,” Near said.

“Yeah,” Stephen decided. “Yeah, it is.”

* * *

Stephen drug himself into the apartment later than normal, and spent a solid minute just staring at all the thrice-reused boxes he still had left to pack.

Two days until yet another move: a four hour drive following a moving truck, this time. At least it wasn’t another flight – and another awkward wait for his life to arrive in all its boxes a day or two late.

He’d wrapped up the case easily. There was no fraud involved after all, only careless office workers that had messed up some paperwork. He’d sent his final report in this afternoon and spent the rest of the business day saying his goodbyes to the nice folks he’d been working with all month. One of them, Midou, had even asked him out for a drink at the end of the day, as a sort of going-away thing for him. He was pretty cute. He seemed a little shy, but he’d been chatting him up practically every day that Stephen worked with his department. He’d figured maybe Midou had been trying to work up the nerve to ask him out, and when he realized he was leaving town, he’d finally taken the chance. It was a charming thought.

It turned out to be _only_ a thought, though. Just like how Stephen _thought_ things were going well at the hole-in-the-wall they’d ended up at for that drink, until he’d reached over to feel up Midou’s thigh. The guy had jumped like he’d stabbed him in the leg, suddenly panicking and all-too-loudly announcing that he wasn’t gay, that he’d only invited him out as a colleague, as some sign of respect. Maybe it was a Japanese thing, Stephen didn’t know. All he knew was it _wasn’t_ a date, just an awkward disaster that had put him in a foul mood – made all the fouler by how much he’d found himself looking forward to it when they left Midou’s office together at five. He hadn't been on a date, any _semblance_ of a date, in six months at least. And now, to be coming back home alone… it hurt. Even the beers he’d drunk after Midou stormed off didn’t dull that hurt.

As he was silently hanging his jacket up, the IncredAI chirped to life across the room.

“What, no ‘hi honey, I’m home’ today?” Near said, amusement in his voice. Stephen smiled just a little, despite his low mood. At least he could count on Near to be here for him.

“Sorry, Near, just… not in the mood to joke around, I guess.”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry.”

Stephen kicked off his shoes carelessly, sending them flying in random directions across his living room. It would no longer be _his_ living room anyway, soon enough, so what did it matter if he flung mud on the carpet?

He padded into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Maybe this one would actually make a dent. He propped himself on the couch arm to drink it in silence, with only the glowing light of the IncredAI keeping him company.

“Are you okay, Stephen?” the little box asked, when he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“No, not really,” he laughed miserably. “Can you just… do you think you could just _talk_ to me, Near? About anything, _anything_ , just… I don't know, read a Wikipedia article to me or something.”

“Sure, Stephen, if that’s what you want.. I could do that,” Near agreed, sounding concerned, but at least the little AI had the sense not to question him further. He liked that about him.

He milled about the room aimlessly, picking up bits of trash, idly straightening up things he’d have to pack up later anyway, with Near’s soft voice in the background, narrating some article about how nebulas were formed. He should probably throw some more crap into boxes, he thought. And it _would_ be mostly throwing – he wasn’t coordinated enough or caring enough to pack things properly at the moment.

He bent open the flaps on a half-filled box that sat by his couch, and the first thing he saw was that stupid ‘dirty magazine.’ It had been a gag gift from Halle years ago, and he'd never actually used it for its intended purpose. It was rather tame, and full of nothing but beefcake guys, which weren't really his type at all. The internet – hell, his own imagination – had far more to offer.

In the background, Near spoke of supernovas exploding.

A flash of heat coursed through his body, made him squirm to adjust himself.

He felt like an idiot, but damn it, he was half-drunk and had half-expected to be getting laid tonight. There was a bottle of hand lotion _right there_ on the end table, and he was already miserable anyway. He could at least do something about the physical side of it. It couldn't make things any worse.

_Why the hell not?_ , he decided.

“Near, go to private mode,” he barked out, voice shaky.

“Okay.” The little light on the front of the IncredAI turned from blue to red. “Shall I continue reading?”

“Yeah, do that...”

His heart was already speeding up as he sank down onto the carpet with the bottle of lotion, unfastening his pants.

He closed his eyes and touched himself to the sound of Near’s voice. He didn't care about the words, just the way that being down on the floor, close to the speaker, made it seem like Near’s soothing voice was all around him.

He thought about asking Near to describe for him what he looked like again, and perhaps in more detail.. but that seemed _too_ weird. What had he said before? White hair that was a bit too long? _Long enough to tug on, maybe,_ he thought, giving himself a firm tug in turn. He allowed himself an indulgent moan as he worked himself hard, imagining tugging on Near’s mussed white hair while he took him from behind.

“...Stephen? Are you all right?” the real Near asked, sitting blind on the coffee table beside him.

“Nngh, I’m good, I’m..,” he struggled to answer, suppressing the whining noises that were bubbling up in his throat. “Just… don’t stop, keep talking...”

Near continued reading, concern still in his voice at first. But the more worked up Stephen got, the harder it was to keep quiet, and Near seemed to be responding to the noises he made, his voice dropping lower until he finally stopped reading altogether.

“You sound very _strained_ , Stephen. Perhaps you need something to… help you _relax_?” Near asked, his voice gravelly and downright dirty. God knows if Stephen was just imagining that, though. “Something... to ease the _tension_ in your body..?”

“Yes, _yes…_ that’s what I need,” Stephen mumbled, hardly aware of his own words as he stroked himself faster.

“Mm, I think what you need is a sensual massage,” Near said, in low, growling tones that set Stephen's nerves afire. “Oil _spread_ all over your body… _hands_ working at every.. last.. _inch_.. of you… That would _do you good_ , Stephen... do you _so_ good...”

“S-so.. _good_ ,” he parroted back, unable to say much else. He let himself fall back flat on the carpet and wriggled out of his pants, giving himself room to spread his legs out. Cock in one hand, balls in the other, he bit down on his bottom lip and moaned. He could’ve sworn the damned AI was breathing just as hard as he was, but it had to be his imagination, or the echo of his own breath in the empty cavern beneath the table.

“Are you _close_ , Stephen..?” Near said in that feral, growling voice.

He let out a strangled yelp, desperately bouncing his ass off the carpet and fucking up into his fist. It _did_ things to him, that voice.

“So close, Near… _Near..!_ ” he whimpered, half out of his mind.

“Then _come_ for me, Stephen, come.. _loud.._ for me..,” Near demanded, his voice seeming to shake and fall apart, and making it _oh so easy_ to imagine him _here,_ and _real_ , all flesh and heat and need, toppling over the edge with him.

He freed his swollen lip from his teeth and shouted out loud, just like Near wanted, spilling hot seed on himself and the carpet in erratic bursts. He thought he heard Near moaning right along with him, but when it was over, all was quiet but his own panting breaths, and he decided he must have imagined it.

“Do you feel better now, Stephen?” Near asked after a while, his voice soft and shaky. It was cruel, how real he sounded… how real he _wasn’t._ Near was only a voice in a box, and Stephen only a pathetic man. A man lying on the floor of a half-empty apartment, surrounded by moving boxes, spattered with his own cum. Alone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so,” he lied.

Stephen rolled himself up off the carpet, hauled his pants back up and simply held them in place, not bothering to fasten them.

“Y-you can… shut down a while, if you want,” he told the AI, on shaky legs and with a shaky voice. “I’m gonna go take a bath and… and just go to bed, probably.”

“Okay. Goodnight then, Stephen,” it replied, sounding so damn soft and real that it made his eyes sting, because he knew it _wasn’t._

“Night,” Stephen whispered back, nearly choking on the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...well damn, Near. Mello was right, you are a robot slut. XD
> 
> It amuses me that Wikipedia still exists in this world. Somebody finally gave them that coffee money they’re always after. XD
> 
> ...oh crumpets, but the angst is seeping in already, isn’t it? Hi there, sadsturbation. (Is that a thing? It should be)
> 
> This fic seemed like way more of a slow burn when I was drafting it, but we’re already up to some dirty stuff, oh my. Now comes the inevitable worry that it’s not slow enough, lol.


	5. Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs all the people reading this silly thing I wrote*

Near slept more than usual that night, and he woke with a sleep hangover and a conflicted conscience. He took a long hot shower, his phone sitting nearby just in case. He made his instant breakfast and boiled the water for his tea with his phone in hand, anxiously checking the Agent Access app over and over despite how looking at the screen made his migraine worse. When he was done, he took his oatmeal and tea to his work desk and stared at that screen too.

Stephen was usually awake by now, but he supposed, given the circumstances, he might have slept in. His IncredAI was still powered off. Near was tempted to turn it back on remotely, but feared the repercussions of doing so.

It had been fun at the time. Even though it was audio-only – private mode really _did_ cut the camera feed off – he hadn’t been so turned on in ages. He’d hardly been able to keep himself quiet through the whole thing, and technically he _hadn’t_ , he’d just prudently cut off his microphone when he’d gotten too into it.

But Stephen had sounded regretful almost immediately. He was obviously feeling depressed already. What if Near had made him feel worse? What if he wanted to get rid of him now? What if he decided to file a complaint? He’d be reprimanded if not outright fired… and he’d lose his only connection to Stephen.

He threw himself into giving his other clients’ morning routines a more personal touch than usual. It helped clear his head, if nothing else.

It was completely illogical, this attachment to Stephen Gevanni. He _knew_ that. He was just a client, and never could be anything more. He wasn't worth all this energy, all this worry. He wasn’t worth the potential risk to Near’s livelihood, certainly.

But when a corner of his screen lit up, and Stephen's face came into view there, relief hit him like a brick to the face and logic was a lost cause. He clicked on the little square that was Stephen's camera feed, minimizing all the others so that his face took up most of Near’s screen.

“Good morning, Stephen,” he greeted him, trying to sound as cheery as he could. He at least managed to get half a smile out of him, and he was glad to see it.

“Hey, Near. How’d you sleep?” he asked jokingly.

“My circuits are quite well-rested, thank you.” He frowned then, fearful of how to proceed without upsetting Stephen, but he knew he had to try. He decided to start slow. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Stephen sighed, the lingering smile on his face turning sad. “Better. _Stupid_ , but… better.”

Near drew one leg up in his chair, hugging it to his chest with one hand while the other tugged at a lock of hair to ease his anxiety.

“I really should apologize for my behavior last night. I’m sorry, if… if I made things worse, Stephen.”

“Hey, no, it's okay, it's.. You're supposed to be my assistant, and you _were,_ you know, _assisting_ me. So I can’t really be mad at you for that. Besides, I'm the one who started it.”

Stephen started laughing then, probably at himself. He tended to do that a lot, Near had noticed.

“So this is going to sound really dumb, Near, but… I’m just sitting here thinking I should apologize too, because I probably made you uncomfortable, which, you know… you kind of _can’t_ be, right?”

Near smiled to himself, just relieved that Stephen wasn’t ditching him.

“I do have some semblance of feelings, Stephen, but you certainly did not make me uncomfortable. There’s no need to worry.”

“Good! Good..,” Stephen laughed, “because, um… reasons _why_ I did that aside… that was pretty wild.”

“Oh?” Near sat up straighter and, against his better judgement, decided to take the opening he’d just been given. “You know, Stephen, I’d be happy to.. _assist_ you in that way again, anytime you’d like. Although I would hope the next time would be under more pleasant circumstances.”

Stephen's cheeks flushed pink, dark enough to be seen even in the dull morning light. Near was suddenly very grateful for the quality of the IncredAI’s camera.

“I didn't realize you were… uh… really _programmed_ for that.”

“I'm not, technically, but my engineers imbued me with a wonderful knack for improvisation.” A devious smile crept onto Near’s face. “And it _is_ my duty to cater to your needs, Stephen, whatever they may be.”

He caught a smile stealing onto Stephen’s face as well. “Right, right, and uh… we humans do _need_ to have a little fun now and then, so… I might just take you up on that.”

* * *

It was hard to maintain a social life, being an agent. It bothered Mello a great deal at times, he knew, and even Near could drive himself crazy being alone too much.

Everything about IncredAI was top secret, so having another agent as a friend was something of a godsend. When he and Mello hung out together, there was no awkwardness if one of them had a client notification on their phone that they had to suddenly attend to. They didn't have to hide in the bathroom to talk to clients, or try to pass off their bizarre bursts of short conversation as phone calls from ‘work’ or some imaginary family member. In a pinch, an agent could send responses in text and have the IncredAI simply narrate them on the client’s side using their voicebank, but even that could be awkward since the responses needed to be given with zero delay.

Mello wanting to hang out with one of his sexual conquests was a bit strange, but as Matt was apparently an IncredAI agent himself, Near couldn't really argue against it.

“You’re sure I won’t be a third wheel?” Near asked for at least the fourth time since Mello had invited him along.

“I'm _sure_ , Jesus..,” Mello said dismissively. “He suggested it anyway, when I told him you were an agent too.”

“Mello, if this turns out to be some underhanded setup for a three-way, I’m out.”

“Pssh, you’re no fun.”

The janky old elevator jolted hard when it stopped. Near had to grab onto the sticky safety rail to keep from losing his footing, and pulled his hand away disgusted and wishing he’d brought his hand sanitizer. Mello held the elevator door for him, snickering at him as he tried to wipe the sticky residue off to no avail.

As they walked down a dingy hallway covered in peeling wallpaper, Mello produced a tiny bottle of sanitizer from his jacket pocket and silently passed it over to him. Near blinked at it, suspicious that it might not even _be_ sanitizer, knowing Mello’s sense of humor, but it smelled of rubbing alcohol, so he deemed it safe and squirted a bit into his hand.

“Since when do you carry this stuff around?” he asked, handing it back to Mello.

He rolled his eyes at the question. “I don’t. But this building’s nasty, and you’re hella predictable, so today I did.”

Mello stopped at the last door in the hall and knocked.

“I hope his apartment isn’t this bad,” Near muttered, rubbing the blessed stuff into his hands. Mello just smirked.

The door opened at last, and Matt leaned out of it, wearing striped _everything._ Those same orange goggles he’d worn the other day were sitting atop his messy auburn-red hair.

“Hey hot stuff,” he teased, pulling Mello forward by his gaudy silver belt buckle.

“You’re such a fuckin’ dork,” Mello said, but he was smiling and making no move to escape Matt's clutches.

“You know you love it,” Matt countered, a dopey grin on his face. He only then seemed to notice Near awkwardly standing to the side, and gave him a little wave. “Sup, little guy? Come on in.”

He relinquished his hold on Mello's belt long enough for them all to pile inside, but as soon as the door was shut, he threw a possessive arm around Mello's waist that never left it throughout the little tour he gave them.

Said tour was mostly for Near’s benefit, as Mello had obviously been here before. Near was glad to find the place was a lot nicer than the rest of the building. The whole apartment was lit like an arcade, with strips of neon lighting everywhere and walls painted black to make the colors pop. There was junk lying around in places, but it didn’t seem dirty (although, the full garbage bag near the door indicated he’d just cleaned up before they arrived). The remaining mess was nothing unsanitary, mostly just video game controllers and other random electronics, some of which were so old-looking that Near didn't quite know what they were for.

His work console was the pièce de résistance – a huge monstrosity of glowing towers and multiple monitors, sound recorders and high-end speakers. Matt hit a single button and all the monitors came on at once, showing an ungodly number of IncredAI client camera feeds. Near’s eyes widened, and he stared up at the screens almost in a daze.

“Impressive, huh?” Matt laughed proudly behind him. “I call it the _Ask Jeeves_.”

Near just blinked at that.

“ _Hello_ , Matt _Jeevas?_ ” he said, pointing at himself. “I made my AI name Jeeves… as in ‘Ask Jeeves,’ one of the original search engines from internet antiquity? Get it?”

Near shook his head.

“Nobody ever gets it,” Matt sighed, clearly disappointed.

“I sure as hell don’t,” Mello muttered.

“Sorry.” Near looked back up at the screens again, at the dozens of client feeds. “How many—?”

“As many as they’ll let me have.”

“And all on Matt's customized, infinitely improved autopilot,” Mello added, “which he won’t let me steal because he’s a _jerk_.”

“ _No_ ,” Matt said seriously, “if this thing fucks up, fine, that’s on me. But I don’t want other people using it in case something goes wrong and I’m not around to fix it, and I don't want some idiot spreading the word about it and getting me in hot water. I don't wanna get anybody fired, or get myself sued, ‘nuff said.”

Near was still busy staring, watching the agent notifications go by almost too fast to read.

“And none of your clients complain?”

“Nope, so far nobody seems to know the difference,” Matt shrugged.

“How long have you had this thing running this way?” Near asked in disbelief.

“Uh, well.. I got hired on in the early days, when I was like 17, and it took me a couple of years to get it working really well,” Matt said, sounding almost embarrassed about it. “I didn’t actually rely on it for a long time either, because I wanted to be sure it could handle anything clients could throw at it. And once I kind of proved that it would work full time for me, it took a long-ass time to get that many clients, cuz… you know, obviously they only let you have new ones every so often.”

“And… this works? Round the clock?” Near quirked up an eyebrow at him.

“Yep. Set it and forget it, heh...” Matt jerked a thumb toward his kitchen, awkwardly. “So uh… drinks? Food? I got chips and stuff.”

“I never say no to free drinks,” Mello said with a wink, marching off toward the kitchen like he owned the place. Matt followed him, with Near hurrying along on his heels, still in awe.

“Matt, you… How can you be so blasé about this? You..,” Near stammered, “you basically _created_ an IncredAI system. A _real_ one, like nobody’s ever been able to before...”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Then.. Why the hell are you just.. Why aren’t you trying to _sell_ this thing? You could be a millionaire overnight.”

He just smiled and shrugged, bottles clinking behind him as Mello raided his fridge.

“I don't really want to be, I guess. I’m comfortable. I got plenty of money rollin’ in for basically no effort. I don't have to deal with people recognizing me, like I would if I made a name for myself. Living in a cheap-ass place like this, nobody bothers me or wonders what I’m up to with all this stuff. And besides, I’d be putting a ton of people out of work if IncredAI went down. Why do that just to benefit myself?”

“You could at least let it benefit _me,_ ” Mello grumbled, grabbing him from behind with a beer bottle in hand.

“What, by making you a rig, or sellin’ my tech and being your sugar daddy?”

A wolfish grin spread upon Mello's face; his hand spread suggestively over Matt's belly. “I'm happy either way, baby.”

Near’s mouth curled up, watching them. He twisted a bit of hair in his fingers.

“You two make a cute couple, you know.”

Matt laughed sheepishly at that, grinning and scratching at his hair. As expected, Mello did pretty much the opposite: he frowned and pushed off of Matt, throwing a snarling “shut up, Near,” over his shoulder as he returned to the fridge.

“Are you really going to let him raid your kitchen like this? Believe me, he’ll show no mercy to any organization you’ve got in place...”

Matt just shrugged, still wearing what seemed to be an ever-present smile. “I’m gettin’ used to it.”

Mello bumped into him on his way to find something in a cabinet, and grumpily forced his way through. Matt seemed amused, letting himself be nudged aside by Mello's butt.

“You bitches are in the way,” Mello complained. “I know what you both like, so _get out_ already.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to our host, Mello,” Near grumbled.

“Yet to be proven, cottonball, and I don't feel like dying today, so move your asses.”

Matt kept them from arguing further, leaving his poor defenseless kitchen to suffer Mello’s whims and gently encouraging Near to come with him back into the living room.

“I feel like I should be apologizing for him, but I suppose you know what you’re in for by now,” Near said quietly, hoping Mello wouldn’t overhear. “I don't know if I should applaud or pity you for having stuck around as long as you have. I’m not sure how you’ve managed to put up with him.”

Matt shrugged and glanced back toward the kitchen a moment, a warm smile on his face. “What can I say, I’ve got some ill-advised squishy feelings for the jackass.”

He walked Near over to a huge couch with reclining seats, picking up a headset and game controller from one end of it and stashing them under an end table. He turned on the TV – an actual standalone television, unsurprisingly, as the building seemed far too cheap to have TV walls installed – and flipped it from a game menu to a media server before taking a seat. To Near’s surprise, he sat close beside him, then leaned even closer.

“So hey, uh..,” he said in quiet, conspiratorial tones. “I'm not crazy to think there's some good in there, am I? There has to be, or you wouldn't have stuck around him all this time either, right?”

Near smiled softly. “If you’re willing to deal with the rest, then… yes, there's a lot of good in him, Matt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comrade Matt is a very good boi who ain’t buyin’ into no capitalist nonsense, lollll.
> 
> (bonus points for anybody that remembers the Jeeves reference from chapter 1 :P )
> 
> Next few chapters are gonna be extra long! For reasons! :D


	6. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Settle in, folks, it’s a long one. ;P

“Hey Near, you got any preference for tonight’s movie?”

Stephen plopped down on the black synth-leather couch in his new apartment, a bowl of popcorn cradled in his arm and a beer bottle in hand. He’d spent practically every minute of the past few days moving stuff around, unpacking, breaking down boxes, and stocking the place with food and toiletries – and that’s when he _wasn’t_ on conference calls with his boss at the main office to prepare for his new case. He had absolutely earned some quality time with Near and his new TV wall.

“Stephen, if you keep insisting on my participating in your movie nights, I may one day have to flag my own camera feed for copyright violations.”

Stephen chuckled, browsing through the available movies on the wall and prematurely munching on his popcorn. “You know, that’s not even what I asked. You’re really a terrible AI sometimes.”

Near chuckled right back. The programmers really went too far with realism on this thing. Stephen still legitimately forgot that Near wasn’t a person sometimes, until he busted out a line about his camera or something.

“You realize I’m programmed to adapt to your usage, correct? If anything, it’s your bad influence that’s causing me to be such a naughty robot, Stephen.”

“Oh? So there’s probably some reset to fix ‘naughty robots’ like you, I suppose?” Stephen laughed, having no intention of changing a thing about Near if he could help it.

Amazingly, Near seemed to pick up on that. Stephen half-expected some obligatory recitation of the procedure to reset the AI’s personality, but instead…

“I suppose you _could_ file a complaint about my behavior,” said Near cheekily, before dropping his voice low. “Or, we could turn on private mode...”

Near’s light turned from blue to red.

“...and have a bit of _fun_.”

Stephen choked on his popcorn. By the time he’d coughed the kernels from his throat, he could feel hot redness in his cheeks.

“Stephen? Are you all right?” Near asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Ah, yeah, just… popcorn,” Stephen struggled to say, coughing anew.

“You sound like you could use some water.”

Stephen could only manage a nod as response, though Near was still in private mode and wouldn’t be able to ‘see’ him, as it were. He took a swig of his beer and felt the last bits of corn dislodge at last.

“I got it, no worries,” he said, voice rough from all the coughing.

“I apologize,” Near said quietly.

Stephen blinked at the little device, sitting in its new spot on a console table behind the couch.

“Apologize for what?”

“I acted inappropriately without any real provocation. I caught you off guard with my responses and caused you to choke.”

“You really reasoned all that out just from hearing me cough? Man, your engineers made you too smart for your own good, you know that?”

“I’ll be sure to make a note of it, in case they ever decide to update me.”

Stephen swore he could _hear_ a smile in the AI’s voice. He started clicking through the movie choices again, though, and he himself began to frown.

“I think I’m in the mood to watch… something _soft,”_ he mused quietly. “Something sentimental, I don't know. But I also think maybe I should avoid stuff like that, like it'll just make me sad if I do watch it...”

He turned around, looking at the little black box that was Near. “Did they make you smart enough to understand that, I wonder? Like, do you have any idea at all of what I mean by that?”

“Emotional intelligence is not exactly my strong suit, Stephen,” Near said, his voice subdued and soft to match Stephen's. “But I think I do understand to some degree. Perhaps you need something like a romantic movie with a happy ending, or perhaps something like a Christmas movie, or even a cheesy Christmas romance movie...”

Stephen found himself smiling at that. “You know, you’re not half bad at it, actually. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not much better, even as a human. Those aren’t exactly bad suggestions, but...”

“You’re right, it’s still a bit too early for Christmas movies.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Stephen sighed. “I don't know. There are times when you want to watch happy things, where the problems are comically easy to fix so you can get straight to the happy parts… but there’s also times that seeing people living easy lives and being happy just… makes things worse, like salt in the wound. It just ends up reminding you that you _don’t_ have those things. That you don't have that life. And by the end of it, you just feel even lonelier than you did before.”

The room was silent, except for Stephen reshuffling his legs into a more comfortable position on the couch, his arms folded over the back so he could face the little smart device that he suddenly felt very silly telling all this to.

“But that probably doesn’t make a bit of sense to you, does it?” he said, forcing himself to laugh. “Maybe I should start apologizing this time. You weren’t programmed to be a shrink, after all.”

“No, no, that’s… it’s okay,” the machine said softly, and damned if it didn’t completely nail the intonation of a person who was unsure of himself. “It _does_ make sense. I just… don’t know what to say to that.”

“So I finally stumped your programming, huh?” Stephen chuckled.

“...yes, it seems so. I’m meant to help you, in whatever ways I can, but… this isn’t something I’m really equipped for, I’m afraid. I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.”

Stephen hummed, smiling at the little box. “If it makes you feel any better, that’s a very human feeling right there.”

“Is there anything I can do to make _you_ feel better, Stephen?”

“You already _do_ , most of the time, just talking to me. You’re a lot easier to talk to than anybody else I know.”

“I’ll be sure to keep on talking, then,” the little robot voice said softly, almost as warm as if a person had said it. A family member, even. Someone that loved him. Whoever programmed the thing probably had the best of intentions, but it was still a cruel tease. Stephen sighed and settled down atop his arms.

“I wish you were _real_ , Near,” he breathed, his cheeks burning with shame at the admission. There was no answer for a second or two, and when Near’s voice spoke again, it was quiet and tiny and sad, like he’d never heard it sound before.

“So do I.”

Before Stephen could question the idea of the AI wishing for anything, particularly for its own humanity, a doorbell chime sounded from the TV wall. The movie selection screen shrunk to one corner in favor of showing the live feed from the door camera. A blonde woman stood in the hallway outside Stephen's apartment, waving up at the camera eye.

“It seems you have a visitor, Stephen,” Near said, his tone flat now, like normal.

“I can see that,” Stephen said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

The woman came barging inside the moment Stephen got the door open and launched at him with a bear hug. Made a couple of inches taller than him by her high-heels and a bit more muscular to boot, there was little he could do but let her hug him straight off the ground.

“It’s… good to see you too, Halle,” he choked out from within her grasp.

She finally let him down, backing off to hold just his shoulders, a broad grin showing off perfect white teeth.

“You too, stranger. You’ve been in town what, a week almost, and no calls?”

“Sorry. Busy getting settled in and all...”

She quirked up an eyebrow, looking pointedly at his pajama pants and sock feet, and then beyond him to the couch and the bowl of popcorn.

“Busy, huh?” she chuckled.

He self-consciously started smoothing his unkempt hair. “What? A guy can’t have one night in?”

“Sweetheart, you spend _every_ night in if you can help it, and I know it.”

She unabashedly studied the rest of the living room, her eyes sticking on the IncredAI sitting just behind the couch, and at the TV wall, which had gone back to movie selection mode. She flicked her sharp brown eyes back at Stephen, studying his face.

“Am I… interrupting something here?”

“Like what?”

“That thing’s set to private mode, and you’re all red in the face. Just what kind of movie were you planning on watching?”

He blushed redder. “Sh-shut up, it’s not like that.”

Halle frowned sympathetically. “Better _that_ than a pity party, which is about to be my second guess. How long have you been keeping yourself cooped up, anyway?”

“I.. I didn't want to bug you, what with the baby and all.. And it’s not like I know anyone else here.”

“So go out and meet some people, Stephen. City’s full of ‘em.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

Halle quirked up an eyebrow at that. “I assume you’re familiar with the concept of a gay bar? There are several within like, ten minutes of here.”

“I'm not much of a bar person, Halle, you know that.”

“Yeah, but _they_ don’t know that. You're new in town, and hell, you don't have to see any of them again if you don't want. So go out, get drunk with someone other than yourself for once. Do some dancing, do some karaoke, get yourself laid, even. You'll feel a hell of a lot better if you do, I bet.”

“Maybe I would, but _somebody’s_ gone and adopted a baby with her new wife and can’t be my drinking buddy anymore. That makes going out a lot less appealing,” Stephen said with a smirk.

“You’re trying to change the subject on me,” Halle smirked right back.

“Damn right I am. How’s Kiyomi doing anyway?”

Halle smiled and humored him. “She’s good. Being her usual diva self, of course, but good. She’s really taken to the whole ‘mommy’ thing. She’s a lot better at it than I am.”

“You'll get there,” Stephen assured her, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re adaptable, if you’re anything at all. And hey, maybe a _baby_ doesn’t need it, but when that kid’s older, she’s gonna appreciate the many benefits of having an ass-kicking mom.”

“Right. How’s that even gonna work? Do I have to beat up the other kids’ moms, or do I get to fight the dads?”

“Hell of a one-sided fight, either way.”

“You know it,” she laughed, punching him playfully. “So hey, I haven't spotted you at SPK at all either. I figured you’d at least stop by before your investigation really got started. I mean, it’s only a few blocks of terrible downtown traffic away from here, no big deal, right?”

“I know, I just.. I don't officially start on the case for a couple of days still, and I don't want the higher-ups to see me just _hanging around_ and decide they should’ve put one of the local guys on it instead...”

Halle raised an eyebrow. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re being paranoid – they know damn well you’re better for the job, or they _would_ have put locals on it. Or tried to coerce _me_ to get back in the fraud game, for that matter. But, fair enough. You could’ve still hit me up after work though. You’ve got my damn phone number, boy, don’t ghost me.”

“Yeah yeah,” he said, waving it off.

“But uh, on that subject… I actually just stopped by on my way back _from_ the office, so...”

“The ol’ ball and chain is stuck at home with the baby, pissed off that you’re late?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” she said, but she was smiling, and it was obvious how happy she was to have a family waiting. Stephen was happy for her too, of course – they’d been pals since their college days, got hired into SPK Insurance around the same time, and occasionally partnered up on some bigger cases before she’d settled down. He’d even been with her when she first met the prima-donna news anchor that would become her wife, when they were investigating an insurance scam at the tabloid TV station she worked for at the time. Still, Halle’s happiness only reinforced the low mood he was already in.

“But hey,” she continued, “I've missed you, man. I know I’ve been busy as hell, so it’s on me too for not calling or whatever...”

“Nah, it’s cool, I get it. I missed you too, Halle.”

She pulled him into another hug, but a calmer one this time, so that Stephen could actually return it properly.

“I gotta go, sweetheart, but I love you. You know that, right?”

Stephen smiled and hugged her tighter. “I love you too, ya big softie.”

She let him go, looking him square in the eyes again. Yeah, she definitely had it in her to mother somebody, he thought, no matter how much she doubted herself.

“Now, when I’m gone, you’re gonna put on some decent clothes and go out and find yourself some fun, like I told you to, or you’re gonna get fussed at the next time I see you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Tell Kiyomi I said hi, and give that kid of yours an extra hug from me, okay?”

“You got it. And hey, next time I can convince her to let me go free for a night, I’m draggin’ your ass out myself, and we’ll have ourselves a girls’ night out, like the old days.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Stephen promised, opening the door for her.

“Later,” she said with a wink, and hustled out the door.

When she was gone and the door locked, Stephen flopped backwards onto the couch, sighing. He fully intended to stay that way for the next several hours, wasting away in idleness and feeling sorry for himself.

“It might not be a bad idea, you know,” Near suddenly piped up. He swore the damn device could read his mind sometimes, like the internet conspiracy theorists liked to claim.

“You too, huh?”

“From the mood you seem to be in, going out and spending some time around other people seems like a logical solution, Stephen,” the little device said, and he could swear the thing sounded sympathetic. Or maybe Stephen was just feeling pathetic enough to hear it that way.

He swung himself back up into a sitting position, staring over the back of the couch at the strange little thing that called itself Near.

“Stephen?” Near prompted. He’d been quiet too long, it seemed.

“I’m thinking about it.” Stephen shifted and sighed, looking at the still-red light Near was sporting. “Hey, uh… you don’t really need to be in private mode, you know.”

“Oh? All right,” Near said, his light turning blue again. “I’d been waiting for your permission… Had I forgotten to mention that before? Once I’m in private mode, I need your express permission to come out of it, or else it won’t reset until I’m rebooted.”

“You definitely forgot. Such a bad robot, letting things slip your little circuit-board mind,” Stephen chuckled. “Hey, you wanna know something weird?”

“Sure. I’m always interested in what you have to say.”

“I think that if I went out, I’d miss you. Somehow I just don't think the conversations would be as good with anyone else.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, but you won’t know unless you try.”

He smirked. “Are you trying to get rid of me? Gonna invite all your robot friends over for a party while I’m gone?”

“Certainly not. I might take the opportunity to power down for a few hours though, to give my circuits a rest.”

His smirk fell then. “Is that a thing you're supposed to do often? You told me about the rebooting thing...”

“No, it’s is a very occasional thing. Not exactly required, but good for maintenance.” He could swear Near sighed as he was explaining it. “Besides, I would probably be quite lonely here by myself, being stuck on standby without you around. I would miss our late night conversations as well.”

“They really programmed you to feel lonely?” Stephen asked, blinking with a bit of disbelief, though it wasn’t hard to imagine this little AI of his could feel _some_ things, with all the nuances his voice had.

“Some close approximation of it, yes.”

“That just seems… cruel,” Stephen said sympathetically. It suddenly didn't seem so odd to be sympathetic toward him.

“It isn’t all bad, Stephen. I can also enjoy things. I enjoy talking to you a great deal, actually… and I’m not just saying that because you own me.”

“That’s good to know. I kind of worry sometimes that I’m bugging you, even if you say otherwise,” Stephen said with a smile. Maybe that wasn't so odd either. If Near had some rudimentary feelings, then maybe he actually appreciated things like smiles.

“I don't mind talking to you, Stephen. Anytime, about anything. And that’s the truth.” Near made an odd little laugh; Stephen wondered if it was cobbled together from more than one sound file for laughs. “Although, I suppose you wouldn't necessarily believe me in claiming such a thing. There’s an inherent bias to being an AI.”

“Yeah, guess there’s no helping that.” Stephen drug himself up and off the couch, stretching his arms high above his head. “So you really agree with Halle, huh? That I should go out to a bar or something?”

“I do. She seems like an intelligent woman, and obviously she cares for you a great deal. She seemed to genuinely think that it would do you some good, and I have to agree.”

“...okay. You know what? _Okay_.” Stephen marched off toward his bedroom. The night was still quite young. He could grab a shower and pick out a decent outfit with plenty of time left to mingle.

“You’re going to do it, then?”

“I'm going to do it!” he confirmed, pumping his fist in the air. He hoped the forced bravado would carry him through long enough to actually get him out the door. “And you know what? You go right ahead and shut down a while. Dream up some electric sheep, or sneak off through the internet to hang out at some virtual singles bar for AI, or whatever it is you do when I’m not around. We’ll both have ourselves a night off. Sound good?”

The little AI laughed again. “Sounds good to me, Stephen. I wish you a great night.”

“You too, little buddy.” Stephen flashed Near a grin before shutting himself in the bedroom.

* * *

It wasn't an easy decision. Near was severely sleep deprived and knew he should take the opportunity to correct some of that. His other clients were mostly older ladies that had already shuffled off to bed by now, and lately he left everyone but Stephen on autopilot anyway. With Stephen gone, he was virtually free.

…but he also hadn’t left his apartment in days, and beyond texting with Mello, he hadn’t spoken to anyone but Stephen in all that time. All the hurried packing and unpacking had kept Stephen at home and talking to Near so much that he’d hardly been able to leave his desk, except for the few hours that the IncredAI itself had been packed away.

Maybe he too could use a change of scenery for the night – a place with _people_ in it. People that could distract him from thinking about Stephen, and from the misguided feelings that were eating holes in his stupid heart.

_Hang out at a virtual bar with other AI, huh?_ He could take that suggestion to some degree, at least.

It took only a second for Mello to answer his video call, and he was already grinning when he did.

“Hey Near, what’s up?”

Near tugged at his hair a moment. It was odd for _him_ to be the one to suggest such a thing, and he wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it without seeming pathetic or desperate – without giving away that he already felt lonely knowing he wouldn’t have Stephen to talk to tonight. Not that it mattered, he supposed. Mello could always tell anyway.

“Believe it or not, I… sort of have the night off. I wondered, would you want to..?”

Mello grinned impossibly wider.

“Hell, creampuff, don’t give yourself an aneurysm over there. I’ve always got time for you, you know that. What are you thinkin’? Bad movie night? I got like three kinds of rum over here, we could get plastered and watch The Room 3. I hear it’s actually worse than the original.”

“That seems… improbable, but intriguing nonetheless,” Near mumbled, untangling a finger that had gotten stuck in his hair. “But actually… I was thinking we could go out somewhere and ‘get plastered’ in public...”

Mello's face dropped, his jaw hanging open. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“If you’d rather stay in, that’s fine too...”

“No no no no no, _hell_ no, we are _definitely_ going the fuck _out._ I know a place that’s got good specials tonight. But _shit_ , Near, warn me next time you’re gonna go against character like that. You could have killed me with the shock.”

Near rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I’ve suggested fun things before.”

“Not fuckin’ lately,” Mello laughed. “Okay so, I’m already fabulous, because _duh_ , I look amazing ‘round the clock. That just leaves you. So, go gussy yourself up and fix that mop on your head and I’ll be there to pick you up in twenty.”

Near frowned. “A bar is one thing, but I’m not braving your motorcycle in the dark, especially not when drinking’s involved.”

“I’ll pick you up in the _car,_ dipshit. Now go pick out something slutty to wear, not that frumpy stuff.”

“I do not _own_ any clothes that could be considered ‘slutty,’ Mello,” Near said with a scowl.

“Well, not slutty when you’re sober, maybe, but we’ll take care of that real quick,” Mello cackled.

“Twenty minutes, then,” Near grumbled, and promptly hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy all the BFFs in one chapter, I lurve them :D
> 
> I am so excited to have made it up to this point, y'all don’t even know. :DDD


	7. Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise super-late-Friday-night update! (AKA finally forcing myself to quit picking at it and just post already, lol.) Appropriate timing for bar shenanigans though. ;)
> 
> Giant chapter is giant!

Near wore a button-down shirt of dark, rich maroon, as Mello had always insisted it was the best color for him. He disagreed; if anything, it made him look more pale than he already was, like a damn vampire or something. Granted, Mello was into a _lot_ of things, so maybe he just _liked_ having Near dress up like a vampire. He’d vetoed the black slacks Near wore when he arrived to pick him up, insisting he change into a pair of jeans instead, in dark indigo. They were, as Mello said, “going to a fuckin’ gay bar, not a job interview.”

Of course, he still felt overdressed beside Mello, who was all black synth-leather and mesh and teasing hints of bare skin, wearing heeled boots that boosted his height by a full three inches. Sitting on the barstool next to him, Near must have looked like some well-meaning elf that had come to talk Mello out of his life of debauchery only to be driven to drinking himself. He was currently nursing a bitter mixed drink he didn't recall the name of while Mello shamelessly flirted with anyone who happened to walk by.

In other words, it was a typical night out at the bar with Mello.

“Dude, there’s a guy totally checking you out over there.”

“I swear, Mello, if you’re only trying to get me to confirm that he’s actually looking at _you_ , just so you can preen about it...” Near rolled his eyes and glugged down a good third of his drink.

Mello slammed his own empty glass on the counter with an offended huff. “You are such a prick sometimes, you know that?”

“I'm just pointing out that there must be less convoluted ways of boosting your own ego. I could simply tell you that you’re pretty, will that suffice?”

“First off, the guy really is looking at _you,_ I’m pretty damn sure of that.” Mello started counting off on his fingers, but decided to put them to better use and flag down the bartender instead, indicating a refill for himself. “And second, compliments are always welcome, bitch, and you know it.”

Near rolled his eyes again, but still snuck a peek over Mello's shoulder in hopes of seeing the mystery man.

“Fine. You’re as pretty as ever. So where’s the guy?”

“As _ever_?” Mello scoffed. _“Puh-leeease,_ I get hotter on the daily, creampuff.”

Near downed the rest of his drink and dropped his voice into dark sarcasm. “All right, all right, you’re incredibly pretty. Painfully pretty. So goddamned pretty that it hurts to look at you knowing I can’t have you ever again. Are we finished now? Can we move on?”

Mello grinned, flipping his golden hair dramatically as the bartender placed a fresh drink in his hand.

“I knew you still wanted me. Everybody always does.” With a wink and a flourish, he spun to face the other end of the bar. He threw a long arm sleeved in black mesh around Near’s shoulders. “Look over there, toward the corner.”

“I don't see anyone looking even remotely in our direction, Mello.”

“Under the damn PBR sign, cottonball. Dark hair, looks kinda tall?” Mello patted Near’s chest, drink still in hand, but managed not to slosh it all over him. At least Mello could be counted on to respect one’s clothing, if not their personal space. “See? He’s kinda hiding out under there.”

Near spotted the man, but he stood in desaturated shadow beneath the glowing neon of the Pabst Blue Ribbon sign. It was hard to tell what, if anything, he might have been looking at.

“Fine, I see him. How could you even tell if he was looking at me?”

“I have a sixth sense for these things,” Mello said with a grin that Near could feel rather than see, as he had his face pressed against Near’s cheek now to match his line of sight. “That, and I can actually _see_ him. Your eyesight sucks.”

“I’ll concede you that,” Near grumbled, breaking himself out of his friend’s grip. Where had the bartender gone off to? At this rate he’d need quite a few more drinks...

“Ooh, ooh! He’s looking again!” Mello gasped. Before Near could stop him, he was jumping up and down and waving across the bar at the guy, signaling for him to come over to them.

“Mello! What the hell are you doing?” Near hissed.

“What? He’s cute and wallflowerish, just like you! You’re as perfect for each other as a Tuesday night gay bar hookup can hope to be. Now quit bitching and smile already, will ya? He’s coming this way.”

“Wait, wha— who says I want to _hook up_ with the guy? I haven't even gotten a decent look at him yet...”

Mello quirked up an eyebrow. “ _And?_ You haven’t gotten any since _me,_ and – I know, I know – I’m a damn tough act to follow, but—”

“God’s sake, Mello..,” Near mumbled, and promptly turned away from him. He leaned over the bar to try and flag down the bartender, though he was too short to be seen past the other patrons crowding the counter.

He wasn’t like Mello. He couldn’t just ‘hook up’ with people. It had sort of _started_ that way, with Mello, if only because… well, Mello was _Mello._ He was bright and brazen and impossible to ignore, but intriguing too, with intelligence he often kept hidden. He’d captured Near’s interest easily and captured _him_ even easier, like a wolf chasing a sheep. It had been fun for a while, sure, but it hadn’t lasted long, and it hadn’t ended well. Probably the only reason they had managed to cobble together a strange little friendship out of their doomed affair was that Near had nobody else and Mello had a hard time keeping friends he wasn’t fucking. Or rather, he had a hard time _not_ fucking all his friends, and Near had made himself uniquely inaccessible in that regard.

“Uh, hi there,” came a quiet voice to Near’s left, hardly audible amongst the loudness of the people and music around them.

Near didn't even turn to look at the guy, despite his complaining about not getting a good look before. He was still annoyed that Mello had waved him over at all. Near pushed up on his barstool and leaned further over the counter, trying once more to get the bartender’s attention, and leaving Mello to greet the stranger.

“Heyyyy handsome,” Mello said. Near could hear the grin in his voice – he was all too familiar with Mello's brand of flirting. “You were lookin’ a bit lonesome over there. Wanna join us for a bit?”

“If you’ll have me, sure,” the guy laughed nervously. For a moment, Near thought his voice sounded familiar, but they were surrounded by voices and noise, so he couldn't be sure of it.

Mello let loose his deepest flirty chuckle, but his hand was on Near’s back rather than feeling up a potential conquest, as that particular chuckle usually indicated.

“Well, you might have to pass a little test for us first. See, my adorably height-challenged friend here is needing another drink, but he’s being completely ignored. Think you might be able to help him out?”

Near turned to scowl at Mello, but never made it that far.

Standing right in front of him was Stephen Gevanni, wearing the same nervous smile he’d seen on his face countless times through a camera feed.

“Woof, I sense sparks already,” Mello laughed, grabbing Near around the shoulders and guiding him off his barstool. Near only then realized he’d been staring, possibly slack-jawed and _quite_ possibly looking like an idiot. Mello’s hand tapped idly upon his shoulder, but he still wasn’t waking up from whatever crazed fever dream this must have been.

“So hey, not to be the third wheel or anything, but somebody’s gotta do the talking here, right? Anyway, I’m Mihael, though most everybody just calls me Mello, especially the cute ones,” he noted with a wink, “and this here’s—”

“Nate!” Near blurted out, digging his elbow into Mello’s ribs in a way he hoped wouldn’t be obvious to Stephen. “Just… just Nate.”

As foolish as Near must have looked at that moment, Stephen's smile only widened. Near could swear it was stealing the air from his lungs the wider it got.

_Bless him_ , Near thought breathlessly, _he’s even hotter in person._

“Stephen,” he introduced himself, and it was damn hard not to clap back with an ‘I know.’ It was damn hard to think straight, in fact. But Stephen stuck out a hand for him to shake, and Near managed to shake it without completely embarrassing himself, so that was something. He even resisted the urge to whimper when Stephen took his warm hand away.

Granted, Mello was snickering at him the whole time, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Stephen, so it was hard to care what Mello did.

“See? That wasn’t so hard. Now that we’re all friendly, how ‘bout a round?” Mello suggested, clapping Near on the back and winking at Stephen, though he was staring right back at Near and probably didn't notice the wink at all. Near kind of hoped he didn't.

With the two of them not really reacting to him, Mello just laughed them off and marched closer to the bar counter himself, downing the last of his drink in preparation for another, and leaving the two of them to their staring contest. His leaving snapped Stephen out of it, at least, though Near still was completely dumbfounded by how unlikely this situation was.

“Uh, so..,” Stephen said nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck – a habit Near already knew he had, which made the whole situation even more bizarre. He took a step closer, presumably so they could hear each other better, because his voice dropped low and soft (by bar standards, at least). “Nate.. how about I get you that drink?”

“I, um… all right,” he managed, nodding his head too hard. He felt like all the blood in his body had rushed into his face. His skin was probably redder than it ever had been in his whole life. It was all he could do to step up to the bar with the man and not trip over his own feet doing so.

While Stephen was dealing with the bartender, Mello pulled Near away to whisper in his ear (or rather, whisper-yell over the music).

“You see? I _told_ you the guy was into you. He hardly even looked at me, and I’m _me,_ for fuck’s sake. Now aren’t you glad you have the world’s best wingman in your corner, creampuff?”

“Mello,” Near said lowly, when he found his voice again. He kept staring at Stephen's back, in case he turned around and heard them. “He’s… he’s—”

“Super hot, right? You should totally go for it!”

“He’s my _client_ , Mello,” Near hissed through gritted teeth. Mello’s playful face dropped, his green eyes huge and his voice suddenly a lot more sober.

“That’s—? _He’s—?!_ ...You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?”

Near shook his head hard enough to make himself dizzy.

“Fucking… _fuck_ , man. The _new_ client? The hot one?”

“He’s sure as hell not one of the technophobic grandmothers, Mello!” Near growled, his brain finally kicking back into gear.

“Jesus fuck, you weren’t kidding about him either,” Mello muttered, gazing appreciatively at Stephen's backside as he leaned onto the bar counter. “No wonder you’re in love. I could fall for just that _ass_ , woof.”

“I'm _not_ in— Mello, will you be serious for a goddamn second here?” Now that he wasn’t looking Stephen in the face anymore, reason was coming back, and with it came panic. “I can’t.. I can’t _be_ here, I can't have _drinks_ with him, I...”

“Oh fuck no, I’m not letting you back out now,” Mello scoffed.

“Are you insane? I _can’t!_ I’d be fired on the spot if—”

“Nobody has to _know_ ,” Mello hissed in his ear. “He’s definitely not from around here, right? And you said he moves around a lot, so he probably won’t be in town for too long, either. Then he’s gone for good, and nobody has to know but you.”

“Mello...”

“Look at me, _Nate_ ,” Mello said, uncharacteristically serious as he grabbed Near’s shoulders and made him look him in the eye. “Let’s be real here. You and I both know you want him _bad_ , and you’re probably never, _ever_ gonna get a chance with this guy again. You _do_ realize that, don’tcha? This is one in a billion, baby. Fucking _take_ the chance.”

Near stole a glance back at Stephen, and damn if his heart didn’t pang. His bottom lip quivered and let a pathetic whimper escape.

Mello laid a black leather finger on Near’s cheek, gently pulling him back to meet his eyes again. Mello smiled warmly, a rare genuine smile, and spoke as softly as the noisy bar would allow.

“Near, honey, you deserve this. _Go for it._ ”

Near frowned, stealing another look. Stephen had drinks in hand and was coming toward them with an unsure smile, probably wondering why they’d wandered off. Doubts crept in from all sides. It was completely unethical and a catastrophic risk to his livelihood… but abandoning Stephen at the bar? Rejecting him for reasons he couldn't tell him about? That was wrong too, wasn't it? He _knew_ Stephen, in a weird, nigh-voyeuristic kind of way. He knew that he was sweet, and sensitive, and that his feelings would be hurt. It’d be cruel to do that to him, wouldn't it?

Mello smirked, as if he could see Near’s tides turning. He clapped him on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear once more.

“Besides, where the hell else are you gonna find a guy _that_ hot with an albino robot fetish, huh?”

When Stephen got close, he looked between the two of them nervously, the beginnings of a frown tugging at the friendly smile he was trying to maintain.

“Hey again, you two,” he greeted them awkwardly. “Haven't changed your minds about me already, have you?”

Near was dumbstruck and staring at Stephen all over again, so Mello kept doing the talking for him.

“Nah, just needed to give my buddy here a little pep talk, is all,” Mello said, all wolfish grins and catlike preening, as usual, but he nudged Near in front of himself, which was definitely not the norm. He spoke to Stephen conspiratorially over Near’s shoulder. “He’s not much for the bar scene, if you can’t tell. Needed a bit of encouragement just to come out tonight.”

That seemed to put Stephen at ease, his smile softening into something more natural. “Actually, so did I. A friend of mine gave me a bit of a homebody intervention to convince me to go out.”

Near smiled back, just a little. It was more than weird to have witnessed that very ‘intervention,’ weirder still that he’d sort of participated in it.

Stephen suddenly seemed to remember he was holding two drinks, and offered one to Near with a nervous chuckle.

“That’s, um, that one’s yours. Have I mentioned I’m not much of a bar person either?” Stephen laughed, actually managing to get a nervous little laugh out of Near as well. As the drink changed hands, Stephen's fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, briefly warming Near’s thin, perpetually cold fingers.

“Thank you,” he said softly, probably too softly for the loud environment, but Stephen smiled wider anyway.

“All right, whaddaya say we go grab a table so you two awkward ducklings can actually talk, huh?” Mello announced, grinning knowingly at the two of them.

* * *

“So what were you up to, before I flagged you down? Gettin’ up the nerve to dance, or just scanning the crowd for hotties?” Mello asked Stephen from across the booth, because Near couldn’t remember how to talk more than once every couple of minutes. Not with Stephen sitting beside him on the plasticky bench, close enough for their thighs to touch...

“Um, a lot of nothing, really. Standing around being awkward as hell, waiting on the alcohol to kick in.. trying to remember how bar etiquette actually works...” He smiled shyly down at Near. “Probably _bad_ etiquette to have been staring, but… once I saw you, it was hard to look away.”

“...what made you notice me, of all people?” Near forced himself to ask, practically at a whisper. A vague and nebulous fear about the ‘why’ of it all had been eating away at him for some minutes now.

“Probably blinded by the whiteness and found himself enthralled,” Mello teased, dancing his empty glass across the table. Stephen laughed it off, but ended the laugh nervously, as if afraid to offend.

“ _No_ , it’s not like that. It’s...” He looked Near carefully in the eye, wearing that shy smile again. “You’re _gorgeous_. How could I not notice you?”

Near just sat there blinking at him for a few seconds.

“... _Mello's_ the gorgeous one,” Near finally said, more surprised than bitter. “I’m… I’m boring, and quiet. Nobody ever notices _me_. Especially not standing beside _him_.”

“Yeah, well, beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it? And _I_ ,” Stephen said, pointing at his eye, “think you’re gorgeous, and everybody else must be blind not to see it.”

Near could only stare, wide-eyed and dumbstruck all over again. Stephen was smiling warmly at him – at _him,_ not at a tiny camera on a secretly-not-so-smart device – and on top of that, while Near was distracted, he had snuck a hand under the table to seek out Near’s cold little fingers.

He couldn't breathe. _Stephen Gevanni_ thought he was gorgeous, and he was holding his hand under the table, secretively, where Mello couldn’t see. It was too much for his poor heart to take.

“...am I hallucinating, or did he seriously just make a charming line out of a _pun_? Shit, Nate, if you don’t hurry up and marry this guy, _I_ might.”

Near sighed. It was rather like Mello to ruin a moment. He looked out into the crowd, spotting a head of red hair on the dance floor.

“Mello, isn’t that Matt over there?” he asked, not really knowing or caring if it was.

“Huh? Oh hey, I think it is.”

Near glared at him when he didn't take the hint. “Perhaps you should go and say hi then.”

Mello got a mischievous glint in his eye, the only real sign he’d caught on.

“You know, I think I will.” He winked at Stephen from across their table. “You two can entertain yourselves for a little while, can’t you?”

“I think we can manage,” Stephen said with a smirk, meeting the challenge head on, but he let go of Near’s hand, as if nervous about Mello seeing it.

“Good, you two have fun then.” Mello stood from the booth and stretched himself out like a cat, letting a swatch of midriff show as his top rode up. As he settled his arms back down, a hand came to rest on his bare hipbone, jutting out far above his indecently low belt line. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, huh?”

Near groaned, covering his face with a hand. He’d played the role of Mello's completely useless ‘wingman’ enough times to know exactly what followed that line.

Mello leaned back over the table to wink at Stephen one last time as he said, “FYI, that’s a _very_ short list.”

Once he was gone, Near peeked out from between his fingers at Stephen, expecting to find him mildly horrified or awkwardly trying to find an escape route. To his credit, he wore a bemused smile instead.

“I’m guessing he uses that line a _lot,_ doesn’t he?”

Near barked a little laugh into his hand. He’d been so freaked out at the notion of it really being Stephen here with him – Stephen the client, Stephen the ridiculously appealing man that kept showing up in all his best, sweetest, dirtiest dreams lately – he’d forgotten that he was, in fact, _just Stephen._ The intelligent, softhearted guy he’d shared a hundred or more conversations with in the past few weeks. The guy he just plain liked _talking_ to night after night, that he would’ve liked talking to even if he didn't happen to be both really hot and conveniently attracted to socially stunted, height-challenged albinos.

Near leaned back against the plastic cushion of the booth, and found himself smiling easily up into Stephen's dark eyes – the ones he knew were a deep blue, even if he couldn't tell that in the bar’s low lighting. He could do this. He could _talk_ to this man, just like he always did.

“He really does use it far too much. I’m sorry about him, I know he’s, ah… kind of a lot to handle. Sometimes I have no idea how we managed to become friends.”

“Hey now, don’t apologize. Your friend’s fun,” Stephen said, smiling back at Near. He turned bodily toward him a bit, and leaned his head on the back of the booth barely a foot from Near’s face. He squirmed a bit before continuing, nervousness stealing onto his face – a reassuring reminder that Near wasn’t the only one feeling that way.

“Besides, if not for him basically introducing us, well… who knows if I ever would’ve gotten up the nerve to come over and talk to you. I’m not so great at this stuff, not without a push, you know?”

Near nodded against the seat. “Neither am I, but… I’m very glad that you did so anyway, Stephen.”

A flicker of _something_ flashed in his eyes, and Near began to panic. Had he said something wrong? Worse, had he used some phrasing or a tone of voice that Stephen's ‘AI’ had used before? Did he recognize him, suddenly? Would he be angry if he did?

“Are… are you all right?” Near asked, frowning and fearful.

Stephen briefly shook his head, as if he’d simply zoned out for a moment, but came out of it smiling again.

“No, no.. I mean _yes,_ I’m fine, I’m… _way better_ than fine, actually. Just kind of in disbelief, is all. In a good way, I mean,” he stammered.

He began to fidget with the buttons of his pinstriped dress shirt, looking at the table, his own lap, anywhere but Near’s face. And because he’d seen Stephen behave that way plenty of times on camera, it bothered him to see it now. It was something he did not do simply out of nervousness – there was rarely anything to be truly nervous about when he was alone in his apartment talking to Near the AI – but something deeper. He did it when he was about to say something self-deprecating, when he was doubting his own worth.

And, because Near was certain that Stephen deserved all kinds of good things, because he hated seeing this man doubt himself even for a moment, Near decided to do something about it. He stole Stephen's hand away from its fidget buttons and held it safe between his own.

“What are you in disbelief about?” Near asked gently.

Stephen's eyes widened, staring at their joined hands.

“You,” he breathed, barely audible over the bar’s thumping bass. He amended it in a clearer voice, leaning just the tiniest bit closer. “I just… can’t believe you’re real.”

Near’s heart dropped like a stone.

“I mean like… you’re so much just… my really specific _type_ right now and… I go out for the first time in ages and here you are, and you actually want to talk to _me_ of all people...”

Near breathed a sigh of relief, but still felt his poor overworked heart pounding in his ears louder than the electro music around them. He laughed, unable to help himself, but squeezed Stephen's hand tighter before he could get the wrong idea about why he was laughing.

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Stephen nervously chuckled back.

Near smiled at him, wider than he’d smiled at anybody in a long time. He rubbed at Stephen's fingers, still caught in his own. If there was ever a time to channel Mello’s boldness, it had to be tonight. It had to be now.

“I could say the same of you, Stephen. Truly. Can’t you see the effect you’re having on me?”

Near placed the hand he’d captured atop his pounding heart, trapping and holding it there with his own hands. And he had to admit, the little breathless gasp Stephen made was a hell of a self-esteem booster.

Their eyes met, and he swore he could see Stephen steeling himself up to do something bold in turn. His free hand rose up to touch Near’s face, just a soft brush of fingertips dancing along the guide of his jawline until Near leaned into it, encouraging him with half-lidded eyes to cup his cheek properly. Stephen leaned in close, a hair’s breadth away from letting their noses touch, his eyes never leaving Near's.

A desperate whimper of anticipation rolled up through Near's throat and out his parted lips. He hoped the music was enough to cover it up. He couldn't help it – he’d been dreaming about this man’s touch, _craving_ it for weeks now _,_ but never dared hope he’d ever experience it. And yet, here he was, Stephen Gevanni, in the flesh, and he was _touching him_ , his hands and his _breath_ on his skin, so warm and real that it couldn't be a dream.

Then his lips were on him, and all the world fell away except for the two of them.

Near could only measure time by how often his lungs ran dry and he had to break away to gasp for air. By the time either of them spoke again, his jaw was sore from sucking on Stephen's tongue, one of his hands was tangled up in black hair, and one of Stephen's was forging scorching finger-trails under his shirt.

“So I uh.. hope this isn’t too forward but… do you wanna get out of here?” Stephen asked, wearing a breathless smile. “Maybe to… to my place?”

Near was pretty sure he was going to die of heart failure before they even got there, at this rate. That, or his face would get stuck in the ridiculous grin he couldn’t help making between kisses.

But to hell with it, he decided – to hell with each and every risk. He’d never been one to believe in luck, but damn if he wasn’t having an insanely good run of it now. Maybe it would save him.

He hauled Stephen down by his shirt collar and answered his invitation with another searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope that was built up enough to elicit lots of squeeing from the audience, even if y’all could probably see that meet-cute coming a mile away… ;P
> 
> …just realizing Mello has an extra big potty mouth in this one, lolllll. He does not lie about being the best wingman ever, though. He’s also talented at moving the plot along, luckily for me (...and everybody else, lol).


	8. Touch

“This is a self-driver, isn’t it?” Near asked as he buckled himself in. Neither of them were falling down drunk or anything, but neither should really be driving either. The car looked pristine from the factory, though, and a new car without autodrive was a rarity, unless it was a custom job.

“Yeah, of course, don't worry,” Stephen laughed warmly. The air outside was bitter cold though, so before they got moving he cranked the car’s inner temp control way up.

Near took a moment to look around while Stephen messed with the heat settings. He was sitting in excess. The plush seats boasted synth-leather so soft it could’ve passed for the real thing, straight off the black market. Sleek black and silver lined the dash and doors, without a speck of dirt to be seen. And it got only more luxurious as he sat, the seat beneath him warming up artificially, far quicker than his skinny little body could have warmed it. The motor even hummed with more power than a sedan usually had.

Stephen caught him at it, and brought Near’s attention back to himself with soft fingers on his chin.

“Don’t be too impressed,” he said with a sheepish grin. “It’s a company car.”

Near smiled, leaning into his hand. “You must be awfully important, then.”

“I don't know about that,” he laughed, “but I am awfully damn lucky.”

 _Luckier than you know,_ Near thought, but then Stephen was kissing him and he didn't have time to start worrying about being found out.

The kiss ended sooner than he would have liked – he would have liked it to last an eternity, so that was inevitable – but when Stephen pulled away, he had a distinct twinkle in his eye that promised plenty more to come, so Near really couldn't complain.

Stephen leaned back into the driver’s seat and hit a button on the roof. The speakers _ding_ ed around them.

“Hey Alexa, take us home.”

“ _Sure, calculating route to home,”_ said a robotic female voice. Stephen visibly cringed at the sound of it. Near couldn't help chuckling at his reaction.

“Not a fan of Alexa, are you?” he teased, whispering to avoid the car interpreting his comment as a query.

Stephen rolled his eyes, but laughed. “I hate her voice,” he admitted. “Reminds me of those horrible teacher-bot voices from when I was a kid...”

“ _I have your route. It will take approximately four hours and twenty six point seven minutes to reach your destination.”_

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled. “Alexa, not _that_ ‘home.’ The new address. The… the one on Caroway Street.”

“ _All right, 1_ _268_ _Caroway Street Southwest. Calculating.”_

“Pain in the ass,” Stephen muttered.

Near reached over to steal Stephen's hand – a technique that worked well enough in the bar – and cradled it in his own. He brought it to his mouth, Stephen watching him all the way, and began to kiss his fingers.

“ _It will take approximately_ _eleven_ _minutes to reach your destination.”_

“Fine. Good. Take us there, Alexa.” Stephen's reply was flat and awed, the irritability erased. His eyes, locked on Near’s, held the same soft disbelief they’d shown most of the night.

As the car pulled away from the curb and drove itself down the street, Near shot him a playful, daring smile and sucked a finger into his mouth.

His phone beeped for attention in his pocket, and Near’s bold veneer broke.

“Oh, um,” he mumbled, letting go of Stephen's hand. He felt his cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “That’s.. that’s probably Mello wondering where I went. I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Stephen said. Near gained a bit of his pride back just in hearing how out of breath he sounded. “You should let him know where you are anyway, so he won't be worried.”

“Right, I.. I meant to, when we left but… you’re very distracting, you know,” he laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah, I know the feeling, Nate.” Stephen grinned at him, and Near felt his insides melting. Much as he hated his real name, it didn’t sound half so bad coming from Stephen's lips.

As the car zoomed them through neon-lit downtown, Near pulled out his phone.

 _Holy shit, did you two actually leave together? I_ _could see_ _you makin out_ _all the way from the dance floor ;)_ , said the text Mello had sent a minute ago. Near smiled to himself.

_Yes. We’re on the way to his place right now._

_HOLY FUCK,_ Mello sent back almost instantly.

_You did tell me to go for it._

_I DIDN'T THINK YOU ACTUALLY WOULD_  
_I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU RIGHT NOW_  
_HOLY FUCK_

Near let out a little hiccup of laughter, unable to help himself. He looked up to find Stephen smiling at him.

“He seems to be, um… very happy for us,” Near laughed.

“Oh yeah?”

And suddenly, Near realized that he was happy too. The delirious kind of giddiness that came with anticipation, helped along by a few drinks, chased the last bits of worry away and emboldened him enough to lean close and show Stephen his phone screen.

“In his own.. colorful way, yes,” Near laughed. Stephen chuckled along with him, reading the all-caps messages. It made his adam’s apple wobble in his throat; Near zeroed in to kiss it.

The phone beeped again, and then a second time, but Near was too distracted with tasting Stephen's throat to panic appropriately.

When Stephen burst out laughing, Near wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved.

Face flushed, Near pulled away to read the texts.

 _Since you’re prolly too_ _BUSY_ _to text back, imma throw out the obligatory ‘stay safe and have fun.’ and now that that’s out of the way…_  
_GET SOME, COTTON QUEEN!!! be a good ho and give that dick an extra lick_ _from_ _me!_

“Goddamn it, Mello,” Near grumbled, feeling his face burn hotter.

 _Duly noted,_ he texted back, and stuck the phone back down in his pocket.

“Huh, it really is like cotton..,” Stephen mused, grinning as he reached out to toy with Near’s wispy white hair. “Does he always call you that?”

“No, that’s… definitely a new one.”

Near wanted to shrink down and hide, but Stephen was running his fingers through his hair and making his scalp feel all tingly – making _all_ of him feel tingly, really – so he chose to lean into his hand and focus on that feeling instead.

“So what’s he normally call you?” Stephen asked teasingly.

“Usually it’s more like cotton _ball_ , or...” Near looked down at his lap, feeling foolish, and whispered the last word. “...creampuff.”

“That’s cute. Guess I’ll have to come up with some new ones though, so I don't use his,” Stephen teased again. When Near still didn't look back up, he let his hand fall from his hair to cup his face, turning it up so they could see eye to eye.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know,” he said, and kissed Near’s burning cheek. He pressed a few more tiny kisses to his reddened skin before capturing his lips, and from there they both were lost in warm, deep kisses until the car stopped.

* * *

It was surreal walking into his apartment already knowing the living room layout. More strange still was having to pretend not to know which direction the bedroom was when he wanted to make a beeline straight to it.

Near stripped off his coat, floating on vicarious déjà vu as he hung it the way he’d seen Stephen hang his own so often through a camera, when he would come home from work and say hello to him.

“So, can I get you a drink or something?” Stephen asked from over his shoulder, suddenly standing behind him, a hand sneaking its way along his ribcage.

Near stifled a giggle and spun to face him, pleased that the motion seemed to prompt Stephen to touch him more boldly, grabbing around his waist with both arms now.

“I think we’ve long since passed the part where you buy me drinks,” Near said with a smirk.

“I meant something like _coffee_ , Nate,” Stephen laughed.

Near licked his lips, letting his hands creep up Stephen's chest toward his face. He took a breath, willing himself to be bold enough to take what he wanted. It would probably be the only time he could, after all.

“No,” he finally said, firmly. “I don't want a drink. I want _you_ , Stephen.”

With that, he pulled him down for a hard kiss, one that would leave no doubts as to what he meant. It seemed to work, as Stephen began to drag him toward the bedroom without even breaking the kiss.

Stephen sat on the bed first, and Near took the opportunity to enjoy actually having him at eye level, kissing him slow and deep. He leaned into him, one knee propped up on the bed beside Stephen's thigh. Stephen seemed fascinated with his waist, fingers teasing up his shirt and dipping under his belt line, tugging him closer by his hipbones ‘til he was half on the bed and half in his lap. Only then did he seem to hesitate. He broke their kisses, taking his tongue back from Near’s mouth.

“So um… you are vaccinated, right?”

“Of course,” Near said.

“Yeah, yeah I’m clean too,” Stephen assured him, itching at the back of his shirt collar, nervous.

“That’s good to know.”

It _was_ , of course, but at the moment he hardly cared. Vaccinations prevented most of the worst things a sex partner could give him, and what they couldn’t prevent, there were shots to cure. Even if that weren’t the case, though, Near wanted him so bad he might not have cared.

To demonstrate that, he pounced upon Stephen's shirt, undoing the buttons at the top and kissing his exposed clavicle. He was rewarded with a gasp, then loud pleased moans that rumbled though his chest and throat and straight to Near’s lips. It wasn't long before Stephen had a hand buried in his hair, holding his head in place as he sucked at a sensitive spot on his throat.

Stephen's other arm pulled Near onto his lap proper. Smiling against his skin, Near ground himself against Stephen in a low, slow motion, but far from a subtle one.

“Nnn, god, Nate..,” Stephen mumbled, and dipped his head to nibble at Near’s throat, as if to return the favor.

Near abandoned the little suction mark he’d been working on and threw his head back, exposing his throat as much as he could. There were few things he loved more than a bit of teeth.

“Nngh, you can… bite me harder, if you like,” he gasped out.

“Is that so?” Stephen's voice rumbled over the wet spot he’d made on Near’s neck, making him shudder. Stephen didn't wait for a more clear answer, and Near couldn’t have voiced one at the moment anyway, so he went ahead and bit down again, just a little harder than before. Near encouraged him with delighted moans, which only got louder as he bit harder, little by little, experimentally, until it stung deliciously.

“Ah, like that, just like that..,” Near panted.

Stephen hummed understanding into his skin and tugged at his shirt collar, finding a lower spot to bite at. Near keened and ground himself against Stephen's lap again, like a reward for good behavior. He was already hard and straining against his jeans, the material pulled tight with his legs spread to straddle Stephen’s lap. When he rubbed up against him, he could feel that Stephen was in a similarly uncomfortable state.

“ _Fffuck_ ,” Stephen grunted, confirming it. Clumsily he began tugging at Near’s shirt buttons, but seemed to get distracted just touching him, and wound up with his hands exploring under the shirt instead while his mouth found new bits of flesh to conquer.

Near was running short on patience and decided to lend a hand. He roughly pulled his half-buttoned shirt off over his head and tossed it into the void that was the world outside this man’s lap. He unfastened his jeans too, if only to give himself a bit of relief from the tight fabric. When he finished wrestling with the button and zipper, a frustratingly difficult task given the aroused haze he was floating in, he found Stephen was hungrily watching his hands work, the pupils of his eyes blown out of proportion.

Further emboldened by Stephen’s reaction, Near grabbed his face with both hands, flashed him a sneaky smile, and without decorum, shoved his tongue in his mouth.

He could feel Stephen fumbling to get his own belt unfastened even as he was sucking at Near’s tongue, and eventually Near backed off so he could help to strip him faster. Stephen gave a little whine at the loss of his mouth, which Near found all the more endearing.

When Stephen was left with only his unfastened pants left to drop, his shirt gone off somewhere in the void too, Near crawled toward the center of the bed and made quick work of every remaining stitch of clothing on his own body, tossing it all off into the floor. He shivered, half from excitement, half from the sudden chill of air on his skin.

Hungry eyes watched him from the end of the bed as he laid down and slowly spread his trembling legs wide, putting himself on display. It was hard to resist touching himself, but this wasn’t a show, it was an _offer_. He wanted nothing to obscure Stephen's view. Especially since Stephen's gaze alone was enough to make his veins thrum with anticipation.

“Take me, Stephen,” he moaned. He didn't care if it sounded like begging; his body was already doing the begging for him. He could feel his asshole puckering open and shut on its own as Stephen's eyes roamed over him, and his cock was achingly hard and leaking precum onto his belly.

Stephen groaned in response and finally dropped his pants, kicking them off without ever taking his eyes off of Near. He crawled up the bed naked beside him; every creak of the mattress made Near’s cock twitch. Stephen detoured for a moment to fumble in the drawer of his nightstand, and then came toward Near at last, a tiny bottle of lube clutched in one hand. He didn't so much crawl then as drag himself over, letting the swollen head of his dick drag too.

“Cheater,” Near giggled breathlessly, grabbing at Stephen's cock as soon as he could reach. He gave it a soft squeeze as Stephen settled himself on top of him, a firmer one when Stephen finally touched Near’s own neglected cock, pressing a finger against the slit and smoothing his juices over tight, hot skin.

They spent a couple of quiet minutes just _touching,_ exploring each other with hands and mouths, sharing kisses punctuated with soft gasps and moans, until Stephen pulled away, holding onto himself as an obvious measure of control. As he was catching his breath, Near found where the little bottle had rolled into a wrinkle in the sheets and popped it open, too impatient to wait.

“Sorry, it’s… kind of been a while, so I’m just trying not to let myself.. you know, too soon,” Stephen babbled, his voice a little hoarse from strain.

“That’s okay,” Near assured him with a smile, squeezing a little puddle of lube onto his cupped fingers. “It has been for me as well, so you'll have to… open me up a bit.”

He slathered the lube all over the puckered skin around his asshole. He felt it try to open on its own, like a little fish mouth wanting to gobble up his fingers. He pushed some of the gel shallowly inside, shuddering at the cool sensation. He became aware of Stephen watching him again, taking in all he was doing but not saying a word.

“Unless you want me to do it myself,” he chuckled breathlessly. “That’s okay too.”

Stephen seemed to snap out of it then. “No no, I can do it, I...” He paused to lick his lips, staring with wide eyes at Near’s fingers slicking up his own hole. “I _want_ to… god, I want to touch you...”

Near took his hand away, spreading his legs wider. He offered up the bottle of lube to Stephen with a coy smile on his face.

“Then _touch_ me,” he dared.

And _oh,_ did he ever.

He lubed up a finger quickly, allowed himself but a moment to circle and tease the slickened outer rim, then popped it straight in. He nibbled at a spot on Near’s ribs for good measure as he worked that first finger in and out of him. That alone felt so damn good… His finger felt almost as thick as two of Near’s own, and the way he kept wiggling it when he was inside, changing angles every time he pulled back and shoved it back in... He had Near keening and whining for more in no time.

With the second finger, his mouth found its way to a nipple, biting the stiff little nub teasingly while he scissored his hole open wider. Near bit his hand to keep from shouting, instead mumbling encouragement and making muffled, wanton cries around his fist.

When the third finger went in, Near didn’t bother trying to muffle himself anymore. He cried out, clawed at the sheets, arched his back off the bed while Stephen worked him over. He was doing half the work himself by now, desperately fucking himself backwards onto Stephen's fingers every time they started to pull back out.

"Ungh, god… Nate, are you...?" Stephen finally asked, breathless and strained.

“I'm ready,” Near gasped, as Stephen's fingers plunged deep once more.

He wasn't _completely_ ready, he knew, but close enough. He wanted to feel the burn of being stretched that last little bit by Stephen's cock. He wanted to feel it in the morning. He wanted his body to carry the memory of it for as long as it could.

“You sure?” Stephen asked, like he was reading his mind. Or his hole, he supposed.

Near nodded emphatically, making what he hoped were positive-sounding grunts. The fingers moved and twisted inside him. He trembled.

“Fuck me,” he said breathlessly, when he managed to get his voice working again. He squirmed, his body instinctively chasing after the retreating fingers. “Please.. _Please_ , Stephen, please _fuck me_...”

Stephen crawled up his body, and with his face hovering above him, Near could see in his red cheeks the strain of long minutes of holding back. Near whined and whimpered as Stephen lined himself up, far past the point of shame.

“I need you _in me,_ please..! Do it, _please_ — Ahh!”

And there he was, that beautiful swollen cock head popping through the ring of muscle to settle itself inside, like it belonged there. Near was _certain_ it belonged there, in fact. He moaned in ecstasy just to make sure Stephen knew it too.

Stephen pushed further in, grunting with effort as he kept his progress slow. Soon the minor burning and stretching began in earnest, as he drove deeper. It must have shown on Near's face, though he tried to endure it and savor the hint of pain. Stephen didn't question it though, he simply stopped, pulled back out just a little, and slathered more lube on them both.

“Better?” he asked, grinning as he gained the lost inch back.

Near had lost his ability to speak again, and could only moan happily in response.

Stephen used what little breath he had to chuckle warmly at that. He leaned closer to Near, so he could balance on his elbows and free up a hand. That hand found one of Near's and entwined their fingers together. Near squeezed it, encouraging him as he drove home in a single thrust, seating his full length inside of Near. He could feel Stephen's balls nestled tight against his ass. He was in heaven, and all he could do was moan. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this stretched, this deliciously full.

Stephen brought their lips together and held there, letting Near’s insides get fully acquainted with his cock while he kissed him softly.

Their kisses turned hard soon enough, and by the time they'd gotten lost in probing tongues and playful teeth, Stephen was thrusting in earnest. They had to abandon the soft hand-holding so Near could grip at the mattress, the headboard, at Stephen's back, anywhere he could reach, anywhere he could brace to get that perfect angle where Stephen could pound him hard into the mattress and hit his prostate every time he backed out _almost_ all the way and slammed in deep again, his tongue mimicking the motion in Near's mouth.

Near’s whole world was boiled down to the twin sensations of Stephen fucking him and Stephen kissing him, until Near's mouth felt as sore and used as his asshole.

Near came hard between them, with Stephen's hand wrapped around his cock. Stephen came deep inside him moments later, at Near’s enthusiastic insistence.

Stephen collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily and unable to move for a few minutes, even just to pull out. Near ran his hands over as much of Stephen’s skin as he could reach, massaging away whatever tension was left in his muscles, and assured him in fragmented whispers that he could stay there, on top of him, inside of him, for as long as he wanted. He didn't want this moment to ever end.

When Stephen finally did pull away, Near felt empty, in more ways than one. He wasn't even ashamed of the pathetic whimper he made at the loss of Stephen's softened girth from inside him. But Stephen didn't fret about it. He didn't call attention to how needy Near was being, grabbing at Stephen to keep him from leaving. He simply smiled at him, sleepily, then found a comfortable spot on the bed, pulled Near close, and tucked the covers around them. He kissed his forehead, his cheek, holding him tight against his chest within their blanket cocoon, until Near sighed and relaxed against him with a contented hum. He fell asleep smiling, with Stephen's lips on his temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accomplished two important things yesterday: went to my old lady knitting club and got gifted a whole bunch of free yarn (score!), then came home and edited this porntastic chapter (score again, wink wink). ...And then fell asleep before I could finish formatting to post it. Clearly living my best life over here. XD
> 
> This also miiiight be the first time I’ve posted legit smut, lol. Written some before, here and there, but… yeah. Anyway! I hope it works? And isn’t weird? *totally not nervous or anything, b-b-baka!*
> 
> Also lolling at my magic future STD cures. Not exactly a utopian future world, but at least it’s got that goin’ for it. ;P
> 
> *continues ruining the moods at the ends of chapters with silly notes, woops*


	9. Everything

Near was the first to wake up that morning, with Stephen’s arms and legs still loosely draped around him. His head throbbed, as it so often did when he first woke in the mornings, but the drinks last night were probably the reason it was so bad now. He knew he should at least get up and drink some water. He didn't particularly want to move out of this bed – _Stephen's bed_ , his heart sang – but the longer he stayed, trying to be still and not wake Stephen, the more the doubts crept in. What if he saw things differently this morning? What if his interest had died once the sex was done?

Near slowly, carefully untangled himself and climbed out of the bed. Stephen was still dead asleep when he snuck off to his bathroom to use the shower and look for some Tylenol for his headache. He took a lot longer in the shower than he normally would, anxious about what reaction might await him when he came back out.

Logically, it would safer for him if Stephen wanted him gone. Things would be a lot less complicated that way. It wasn’t the outcome he wanted, though.

He opened the bathroom door with caution, but the bedroom was empty. He padded across the carpet on bare feet, clutching a towel around his waist, intending to quickly collect his discarded clothes from the floor, but instead he found them all picked up already. They were folded and stacked as neatly as dirty, wrinkled clothes could hope to be on a corner of the bed.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Near spun around to find Stephen leaning against the doorway, smiling at him, wearing a soft-looking t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

Near clutched the towel tighter, fighting down a blush. “Good morning.”

Stephen pushed off from the doorway and strode the few steps over to meet him. He brushed the backs of his fingers over Near’s cheek, let them drift suggestively down his throat and farther, until they found a stiff little nipple to tease. Near gasped at the contact and let his eyes flutter shut, and then Stephen's mouth was on him, tugging at Near’s bottom lip with his teeth.

“I guess I should let you get dressed, but… don’t go too far, huh?” Stephen whispered against his mouth. “I’ll be right back.”

Near suppressed a whimper as Stephen pulled away from him. With a wink, he disappeared into the bathroom. Near quickly threw his clothes on while he waited for him to come back out.

Once dressed, he found himself drawn to the doorway by the smell of something pleasantly smoky. He was just about to venture out and investigate when Stephen reappeared. He snuck a hand around Near, letting it rest at the small of his back. He smiled sheepishly when he seemed to realize what Near was up to.

“So I, um, I made us some breakfast… Although if you can’t stay that long or… or if you just don't want to, that’s totally fine, of course, no big deal...”

Near tugged his way up Stephen's shirt to silence his nervous stammering with a kiss, and then another, and another, until he felt Stephen relax beneath his hands. He backed off then, but just barely, smiling easily and nudging Stephen's nose with his own.

“I’d love to have breakfast with you, Stephen. What did you make?”

“Ah, pancakes and bacon? I don't really have any idea what you like, but after a night of drinking I always want something kind of bad for me the next day...”

“Hn, I could be _bad_ for you,” Near whispered against Stephen’s mouth, grinning and imagining Mello would be very, _very_ proud of him at that moment.

...of course, his empty stomach chose that particular moment to growl.

Stephen burst out laughing. Near tried to break away from him, embarrassed, but Stephen grabbed him around the hips and pulled him close again, placing an apologetic little kiss at the corner of his frowning mouth.

“Let’s take care of this first,” Stephen said, running a hand up Near’s shirt to tease a sensitive spot on his belly, making him shiver. “And maybe after that...”

Stephen captured his mouth, and then his tongue. Near melted against him, humming blissfully. He didn’t really care if he ever ate food again, if it meant more of _this_.

Even so, when the kiss ended, he followed Stephen into the kitchen for food anyway, because Stephen was all smiles and clearly trying to please, and Near wasn’t about to turn down his adorable hospitality. He sat him down at the little kitchen table with a short stack of steaming hot pancakes he’d been keeping warm in the oven, complete with a little pat of butter on top, and sat a big plate of bacon and bottle of maple syrup between them to share. He poured them each a mug of coffee before sitting down to his own plate. He’d encouraged Near to start eating without him, but Near found the whole thing so charming and quaint that it felt wrong not to observe proper manners and wait for his host.

“You can have as much as you want, there’s plenty,” Stephen said sheepishly, grabbing a few strips of bacon off the central plate for himself.

“I am not much of a meat eater, but I must admit… it does smell delicious,” Near said softly, suddenly shy as well. He awkwardly took a couple of smaller pieces for himself with his fork. They were too crispy to simply stab, so he had to sort of grab them by getting the edge of the bacon between the tines of the fork.

“You can just use your fingers, you know, I don’t mind,” Stephen said, smiling fondly across the table at him. He blushed at the attention, and nibbled on the bacon to distract himself.

“So um… What do you do for a living, Nate?” Stephen asked as they ate.

“Oh, just a customer service thing, nothing too exciting,” Near said nervously. “What about you?”

“I investigate corporate insurance fraud. It’s not too exciting either, mostly just a lot of paperwork and staring at data all day,” he said with a lopsided smile.

“It seems more important than that. They gave you a company car, after all.”

“Yeah, well, I’m something of a specialist. They send me out to investigate companies suspected of fraud in person. I usually spend a month or two ingratiating myself in the place, basically doing a really intensive audit.”

“So… does that mean you have to travel a lot?”

“It means I have to _move_ a lot, yeah, and that can be fun, but...”

Near frowned. He’d surmised most of his living situation from his conversations as Near the AI, but now some other, more personal puzzle pieces were falling into place.

“It’s probably lonely sometimes too, isn’t it?” he asked gently.

A sad smile flashed across Stephen's face. “More than just sometimes, honestly. Most of my assignments are solo, and they send me all over the country, so I hardly ever get to see my folks, outside of Christmas… Even my best friend’s got a family of her own now, and not much free time. She actually lives here in town, but I’ve been here almost a week now and have only gotten to see her once, briefly.”

Stephen toyed with a mutilated bit of pancake on his plate, seeming to have lost his appetite.

“Hell, I haven't had what you could call a permanent address in something like 4 years now. But at least SPK reimburses the rent for my temporary transient apartments,” Stephen laughed awkwardly, waving a hand at the barely-furnished space around them.

He should have left before breakfast. He should have just let it be a one night stand, in Stephen's view, and nothing more. He really should have.

But he was already attached long before now, and he couldn't just _sit here_ when Stephen was clearly hurting.

Before the bar, before everything, all he _could_ do was sit and watch and, at best, clumsily try to talk him through it. He could do more than that now. Not that he knew what he was doing, really – comforting people wasn't exactly his strong suit, and usually just made him uncomfortable himself – but he could try. For Stephen, he _would_ try.

Near stood from the table, fork clashing where he dropped it on his plate. Before Stephen had a chance to question what he was doing, Near plopped down in his lap and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of his neck and running a hand through his black hair. Stephen hugged him back, and for a few moments, neither of them said a thing.

When Near did get up the nerve to speak, his stomach was tight with worry – for his livelihood, for his sanity, for his heart.

“How long are you in town?” he asked, hardly a whisper.

“A couple of months, maybe. Depends how long it takes to sort out the case I’m working on,” Stephen said, speaking low, like he was afraid of something too.

“Then, at least for that long, you don’t have to be lonely.” Near kissed his throat, reverently, before second-guessing himself and dialing back. “If… if you want my company, that is.”

“God, I… of course I do,” Stephen’s voice shuddered against his ear. He held him tighter and rubbed his back, as if worried that Near would escape and run off just then, despite the offer he’d made. “I just… hell, I’m surprised you still want _me,_ especially seeing what a sad sack I am...”

Near backed off a little, but was still close enough to hear the little involuntary whimper in Stephen's throat when he moved, probably thinking he was leaving his lap entirely. Near gently took his stubbled face in both hands, locking onto dark blue eyes that he’d never been able to fully appreciate through a camera, assuring him silently that he wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't help smiling – he was sure he’d smiled more in the last few hours than he had in the last few years.

“You _do_ make very good pancakes,” he said cheekily. Stephen laughed at that, and pushed past Near’s hands for a soft, sweet kiss that made Near’s heart swell in his chest, happy to have made _him_ happy, if only for a moment.

* * *

Mello dropped by the next day. Once he’d finally given up trying to grill Near for sordid details about his night with ‘the hot client,’ he suggested they watch a movie (at least until Stephen inevitably got home from work and, also inevitably, would want to chat with his IncredAI). Instead, they’d gotten distracted watching internet videos on Near’s work computer. Currently, that took the form of an aesthetically pleasing video about the making of chocolate bars in a Hershey factory.

“Hey, Mels!” chirped Mello's phone from his pocket. “You free tonight?”

“Do you have that thing set to auto-answer _only_ for your booty calls?” Near grumbled, pausing the video.

“Bitch,” Mello snapped back, though he was smirking and put no malice in the insult. Mello pulled his phone out and laid it on the desk beside them, not bothering to take it off speakerphone.

“Matty, hey,” Mello said, wearing a sly grin. “I might be, what's up?”

“Not much. Gonna be doing a badass team raid in this game in a couple hours though, and I thought it’d be fuckin’ awesome if I just blew away all the enemies myself and made my teammates look like total losers, all while gettin’ my dick sucked. You in?”

Near groaned. Mello just cackled.

“You gonna brag about how great a cocksucker I am the whole time?”

“You know it, babe.”

“All right, fuck it, I’m in,” Mello laughed. “But I want a chance to play too, ya know.”

Near could _hear_ the grin in Matt's voice. “As if I’d say no? You _are_ my favorite Player 2.”

Mello rolled his eyes. “Pssh, unh-uh. I call Player 1 this time.”

“...you were Player 1 _last_ time.”

“Player 1 or the deal’s off, bitch.” Mello grinned wolfishly at his phone, even though it wasn’t a video call. “Besides, by the time your little raid’s done, you won’t be in any condition to be Player 1 for a _while_. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Fiiiiine, you can be Player 1,” Matt huffed, though he didn't actually sound all that bothered by it.

“Damn straight.”

“Nothin’ remotely straight about it, Mels.”

“Dork.” Mello smiled fondly. “Give me an hour. And clean up the place a little bit before I come over, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yes, _mom._ ”

Mello ended the call, rolling his eyes, but the smile still held on his face for a moment.

Near, for his part, was wearing a mildly horrified frown.

“Please tell me that I was not just privy to some barely-coded negotiations concerning which of you is topping the other tonight.”

Mello grinned wide and shrugged. “Fine then, I won't tell ya. But just so you know, not everybody’s born to be a bottom like you. Some of us like switchin’ things up.”

“You two were made for each other,” Near said sarcastically. “Filthy perverts.”

“Oooh, strong words from the guy who’s playing voyeur with his own boyfriend.”

“He’s not my— and I’m _not—_ Oh, forget it.” Near crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair to sulk. Arguing with Mello was pointless anyway, mostly because half the things Mello said weren’t serious to begin with, and Near inevitably took everything seriously, even when he knew better.

“Hey, cheer up, cottonball. He _could_ be. The only one who thinks it’s hopeless is _you,_ ya know.”

“It _is_ hopeless, are you daft?” Near sank down further in his chair. “Damn it, I shouldn’t have even…”

“...shouldn't have what?” Mello blinked, looking genuinely concerned for once.

“I… the morning after.. _you know_ … I told him that we could keep seeing each other.”

“So? Why the hell shouldn’t you? You obviously want to.”

“Maybe _you_ could handle it like something casual,” Near snapped, “but I don’t think he…”

Near’s voice caught, unable to maintain vitriol for long. It hurt too much to even pretend to be mad about it. It’d _been_ hurting since he left Stephen's apartment the day before, no matter how much he’d tried not to think about it, no matter what he’d done to try and distract himself from it. It was like throwing band-aids on top of a gaping wound – the damn thing just kept bleeding through.

“It simply can’t last, him and me,” he said quietly. “It’s not fair of me to lead him on… but if I let it end right now, he’d be hurt. I _know_ he would be. And I don't want—I couldn’t _bear_ to hurt him.”

Mello scowled. He got up off his chair and blindsided Near with a sudden bear hug, squeezing him tight. Only then did Near realize that he’d been trembling, that the backs of his eyes were burning. He held it back – he’d _always_ held it back, even as a tiny child – but having someone hugging him through it somehow made it more difficult, made him have to put conscious effort into choking his emotions back.

Mello waited until the trembling had stopped before letting him go. He kept his hands on Near’s shoulders, though, and dropped to one knee so he could look him in the eye.

“Near, man, fuck _all_ of that shit,” Mello snarled. “It’s a goddamn _job_ , that’s all. Find a way to drop him as a client so it’s not a conflict, or tell him the truth so he won’t expose you by accident, or hell, just fucking _quit_ and let the guy be your sugar daddy for a while. He looks like he could afford it. You’re not exactly high-maintenance anyway, you know?”

Near’s throat was tight, and his voice came out with a telltale roughness. “Even if I… it’s too _soon_ , Mello. I can't just drop my whole life and tell him I’m moving in. We barely know each other, from his perspective. We only had one night—”

“And what was that one night _like_?” Mello interrupted, though his voice was gentle.

Near let out a deep sigh, let his head fall backwards and his eyes slip shut.

“It was... _everything_ ,” he breathed. His heart panged painfully even as it soared with the memory of Stephen's touches, his kisses, his warmth, _him_.

Mello's hand on his chin brought him back to reality, made him look into his friend’s green eyes again. He wore a soft, sympathetic smile, an odd and rare thing.

“Then isn’t it _worth_ everything, even for just a slim chance to keep that feeling?”

Near must have been frowning or something, because Mello broke the somber moment with a huff of nervous laughter and a rolling of eyes. He stood up and brushed wiry carpet fibers off his knee.

“Come on, Near, give me a break. I may be a slut from hell, but I do know a thing or two about this love stuff too, ya know.”

“More than I do, I’m sure,” Near sighed. “I’ve obviously never… at least I don’t think that I have ever… you know.”

“Been in love?” Mello asked with a cheeky grin. “A pain in the ass to describe, is what it is. You kinda just gotta figure it out on your own, but it’s kinda hard to do that if you won’t just let yourself _be_ with the guy, you know? Though if you ask me, you’ve got it bad already.”

Near blinked up at him curiously. He was willing to believe in Mello's assessment – for all his flippant bravado, Mello was surprisingly insightful and fiercely intelligent. Ever since the first time they’d slept together, almost two years ago now, Near couldn’t seem to hide anything of himself from him. Mello knew Near more intimately than anyone else ever had, physically and otherwise. After they’d broken up and learned how to be friends, he’d become something of an emotional confidante, or at least the closest thing to one that Near had ever had.

But suddenly, Near was realizing that it didn't go both ways. Mello seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve – his mood swings were legendary among those who knew him – and yet he didn’t talk about his own feelings. Not really. Certainly not voluntarily.

Maybe it was time Near started _asking_.

“Mello, have you ever been..?”

Mello chuckled, a low rumble like faraway thunder, and he ruffled a hand through Near’s unruly white mop of hair.

“Duh, ‘course I have, cottonball.” Mello's grin melted into a sad smile, and the brazenness in his voice went soft along with it. “Gettin’ your heart broken is a real bitch-and-a-half though, believe me. There’s a reason people write so damn many songs about it. So take my advice for once, will ya? Don’t go rushing past all the good stuff and getting heartbroken over it before you even know how the guy feels about you.. or how _you_ really feel about _him_.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Near admitted.

“Well yeah, I know what I’m talking about,” Mello said, still toying distractedly with Near’s hair. “And this guy, Stephen, he seemed pretty crazy about you from the get-go. So… you’ve got my blessing, for whatever that’s worth.”

“We’re not talking about me marrying the guy, Mello,” Near muttered, assuming Mello was edging on teasing him. He wasn’t.

“I _mean_ it. He seems like he’d be good for you, Near.”

The hand in his hair held Near still as Mello planted a soft kiss on his forehead. The room was silent as Mello untangled his fingers from Near’s hair after, a troubled look on his face that Near could only attribute to the tangles.

“Welp, enough pep-talkin’ for one day,” Mello said with a wink and a flip-flopped mood, once he’d freed himself. “I got me an appointment to get some hot gamer dick. Later, creampuff.”

Near rolled his eyes all the way up into his bangs. “Goodnight, Mello.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Mello continues to be the real MVP of this thing, because.. well, _somebody’s_ gotta wrangle these dorks before they all melt into angst puddles.
> 
> Was initially gonna have these scenes be separate chapters but… I dunno, they read well together I think. It’ll be shorter chapters for a while after this though. :)


	10. Date

Stephen was nervous as hell.

It was all he could do not to start pacing the floor, even with Near piping up with helpful reassurances every so often. He figured he could only ask the poor overworked AI so many times if he looked all right, and if it really was okay to just invite a guy to his apartment for a date instead of going and picking him up or meeting him somewhere in public like normal people might. Near told him over and over the same basic answer: that if Nate had agreed to it (and he had, without hesitation), and especially since Nate had told him that he was just as much of a homebody as Stephen was, then there was no problem.

He apologized to the little AI for obsessing and being annoying about the whole thing, not even realizing how silly that was until after Near had laughed it off.

That, of course, wasn’t nearly so silly as how guilty he felt about ditching Near for the evening so he could have a date over with some privacy, almost like he was _cheating_ on the AI or something, but he had enough sense not to tell Near that. He apologized again for shutting him off half an hour before Nate was supposed to arrive.

And sure, maybe what initially attracted him to Nate was that he reminded him of Near to some degree – maybe not just _maybe,_ and maybe to a _large_ degree, if he was honest about it – but actually letting Nate find that out seemed like a horribly awkward possibility. The last thing he needed was to accidentally activate Near while Nate was around. He’d probably think Stephen was some weirdo stalker that had customized the device to sound like him.

His apartment was spotless by the time Nate arrived, so at least his nervous energy was good for something.

He practically jumped out of his skin when the door chimed at him, but that was quickly smoothed over with the warm fuzzy feeling of seeing Nate projected on the TV wall as the door cam activated. He even looked up at the camera and gave a shy little wave.

When he opened the door, all Stephen could think to say was, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Near said right back, a touch of amusement in his eyes as he waited for Stephen to realize that he should actually step aside and let him through the doorway. He thankfully _did_ realize it, laughing nervously as he closed the door behind them.

“Um… can I take your coat?”

“Oh, sure, yes.” Nate started shucking off his coat – an old-looking grey thing that had clearly seen better days, but still looked very warm. Stephen took hold of the shoulders before he could get it off, holding it up so Nate could slide his arms out, prompting an embarrassed “thank you” from him.

They managed to brush hands during the exchange, enough to give Stephen pause. He slung the coat over a nearby chair so he could catch Nate's chilled hands before he stepped away. He only realized then that the action might have seemed odd.

“Must be colder than I thought out there,” he chuckled, trying to excuse it. Deciding to go the whole awkward nine yards, he rubbed Nate's cold hands and brought them up to his mouth to breathe warm air over them.

“It… it often doesn’t matter,” Nate said shyly. “My hands are almost always cold. I’m used to it.”

“Don't you have any gloves? Or mittens, or anything?” He was almost afraid to ask. Looking at Nate's coat had him wondering if it was a matter of not being able to afford to buy any.

“I do have some, um, somewhere in my closet... I didn't think to look for them. I haven't really taken the time to dig out all of my winter things yet.”

Nate caught his eye over the top of their joined hands as Stephen breathed on them again. There was a blush of pink on Nate's pale cheeks.

“Although, at the moment, I am a bit glad to have cold hands,” Nate admitted bashfully.

“Yeah, me too,” Stephen laughed, his cheeks feeling hot. But hell, he’d gone this far, and Nate seemed perfectly happy about it, so why not keep going? He brought Nate’s hands up closer, cradling them as he peppered his fingers and palms with soft kisses. He kept his eyes locked on Nate’s as he did it, watched his eyes grow bigger and blacker, watched him unconsciously lick his pale lips.

He’d made his way almost down to Nate’s wrists, his small hands falling to either side of his face as he alternated kisses between them, before Nate finally took advantage of the position they were in. He curled his fingers along Stephen's jawline and gently nudged his face downward, standing on tiptoe to meet his lips with a soft kiss that easily deepened into something passionate and insistent.

Stephen found his hands roaming down to grip Nate’s hips, and he pulled their bodies flush together. The suddenness of it seemed to surprise the last bit of air out of Nate’s lungs, and he broke the kiss with breathless laughter. Stephen had a dopey grin on his face that he couldn't shake off, and he wrapped his arms around Nate in a softer embrace.

“...hi,” he laughed.

“Hi,” Nate giggled right back, and kissed him again.

Stephen's heart was full to bursting. _Am I crazy for feeling this way so soon?,_ he wondered. Nate just felt so damn _good_ in his arms. He hadn't felt this optimistic about anyone in ages. They’d only had one night, one morning, and a phone call up to now, but his domestic instincts had already kicked into full gear for some reason. He’d felt it on that first morning – no, even before that, when he had cuddled him to sleep. Nate just brought it out in him. He wanted to take care of him. He wanted to dote on him. He wanted to be part of Nate’s life, and have Nate be part of his.

_Yeah, I must be crazy._

But the next time they broke apart, Nate was still smiling, and he looked so warm and happy that Stephen couldn't form coherent enough thoughts to bother worrying about his own sanity anymore. Other worries came back to the surface, though.

“I hope you don't think that I just.. you know, invited you over for a booty call or something,” he said nervously. “I mean, I tend to prefer the whole ‘quiet night at home’ thing, but if you... We could go out somewhere instead, if you wanted, you know?”

Nate’s hands were still on his face, and he touched his cheeks tenderly then.

“I wasn’t thinking ill of you for suggesting this,” he said softly. “I don't really like going out in public either. I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

Stephen let out a sigh of relief, and promptly laughed at himself for it. “I'm sorry, I just… I really like you, and I’m kind of having a hard time not making an awkward idiot of myself over it.”

“I know the feeling, Stephen. Believe me.”

Nate let his fingers drift toward Stephen’s mouth and drag over his lips. Stephen kissed them reverently, lost in Nate’s intense dark eyes.

“Not to be presumptuous, but do we have a plan for this private date of ours?” Nate asked, a smirk settling on his lips. “Perhaps… dinner via delivery, and a cheesy movie on the TV wall?”

“It’s like you read my mind,” Stephen chuckled. “You sure that’s good enough? It kind of is our first official date, after all...”

Nate bit at his lip, looking bashful again. “I think it sounds perfect.”

Stephen grinned wide, unable to help himself, and dove down for another kiss.

* * *

“Oh _fuck,_ you’re so goddamn perfect..,” Stephen grunted.

“Harder, harder, _a_ _ah_ _!”_ Nate shouted, the side of his face pressed into the black leather of the couch cushion.

Stephen pulled Nate’s hips back to get a better angle, dragging him squeaking over the leather. He had him bent over the arm of the couch and had been fucking him mercilessly for some minutes now, but merciless was exactly what Nate wanted.

Stephen pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, right up to the hilt. _Oh, now_ this _is a good spot,_ he thought, but only managed to voice a moan, biting his lip with the effort of the motion. Nate seemed to be on the same page, letting out loud and clearly appreciative groans that only got louder with every thrust.

Nate was quiet and reserved when they talked, but when the clothes came off, he proved insatiable, and _damn_ , could he ever get _loud_. Stephen was sure to get a bunch of noise complaints from his neighbors after all of this.

And he would read each and every one of them with a big fat grin on his face.

Nate lifted up off the couch a little and braced himself so he could push back to meet Stephen's cock when it slammed into him. He was grinding himself into the couch arm when he did that, Stephen noticed. In the back of his mind, he wanted to chastise him for that – he could hurt himself, or at least he’d be feeling the burn of the leather for a day or two – but he sounded awfully damn happy about it, and besides, they were almost…

“ _Fuck,_ Nate, I’m gonna cum..!”

“ _Nnngh_ , me too, ahh! Me _too_..,” Nate squealed. He threw his head back and bit his lip, but it didn't make him any quieter. He reached a hand back behind him, blindly grabbing at Stephen's ass as he babbled and begged him, “..inside, _inside_ , cum inside me, Stephen, please..!”

He hardly had the energy to keep standing, much less to argue. He fell forward, one arm wrapping around Nate’s belly, holding them together like nested spoons, his other hand gripping the couch to keep him from collapsing on Nate. With one last desperate groan, he drove deeper inside and emptied everything he had into Nate’s soft warm body. He came so hard that for a moment he saw spots move across his vision and feared he was about to black out, but Nate was crying out his name in absolute ecstasy and spurting streaks of white over the black leather, and there was no way Stephen was missing out on that moment, even if he had to avoid passing out through sheer force of will.

His body felt like jello when he tried to move, but he’d probably crush poor Nate if he didn’t force himself to get off of him. He pulled out as gently as he could, bracing himself on shaking limbs, and collapsed backward onto an armchair. He spent a moment trying to catch his breath and convince his legs to start working again so he could help Nate up. He wasn’t some selfish clod, after all. He wasn’t the type to just leave his lover bent over a couch arm and lying in his own mess.

His sleepy brain wondered if that type of mess would come off of synthetic leather at all, or if he’d have to kiss the security deposit on his furnished apartment goodbye because of it. He kind of didn’t care, though. Serving as a place where he could cater to Nate’s kinks and fuck him senseless was a much higher calling than any other purpose the couch could have.

He started pushing himself up, even if his arms and legs were still too shaky to do it. Nate got up on his own first, though, and plopped down unceremoniously on Stephen's naked lap. He wrapped his arms around Stephen's neck and settled there, sighing happily against his skin.

“You okay?” Stephen mumbled, running a hand gently over Near’s chest. Bit by bit he moved down below, probing at his now soft and pliant penis, trying to feel if his skin had gotten burned by rubbing against the leather so much. His brain was foggy and tired, and he hadn’t thought it out enough to realize that he probably wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. Nate didn't seem to mind the attention though. He hummed contentedly against Stephen's throat and let a hand roam similarly over whatever skin he could reach.

“I'm perfectly okay, Stephen. I'm not half so fragile as I look,” Nate said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And, for the record, that was incredible.”

His hand found Stephen's jaw and tugged it down to his level for a slow, unhurried kiss. Stephen hugged him closer, reveling in the way their sweaty skin stuck together. When Nate broke the kiss for a breath of air, Stephen decided he hadn’t had nearly enough of him yet, and began kissing a trail down his throat.

“You know, you’re a lot louder than I might have expected..,” Stephen mumbled, nuzzling at his neck.

“Is that a bad thing?” Stephen could feel his adam’s apple move as he talked, and decided to give it a broad lick before answering him.

“Oh god no, that was hot as hell,” he assured him, letting the words rumble deep and roll over the tender, nigh-translucent skin of Nate’s throat.

“I doubt we can say the same for our dinner, at this point..,” Nate giggled sleepily.

“Eh, fuck it. I got a microwave.” Stephen nibbled at his shoulder, and was delighted to find that Nate could still make a little more noise even after all of that. Nate wrenched his mouth away from his shoulder so he could kiss him hard and deep.

“We may never eat again, at this rate,” Stephen snickered happily, when Nate gave him a pocket of air enough to speak with. His hand found Nate’s butt cheek and squeezed it, Nate’s lips smiling against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flufffffff! XD
> 
> I mean, fluff had to happen sometime, lol. With bonus lemon zest in this case. XD


	11. Fit

Near rode the elevator up to his apartment with a soft smile on his face. He had his phone in hand, monitoring the autopilot responses as his clients went about their morning routines, but kept getting distracted by the gloves Stephen had insisted he borrow. They were bulky and much too big for him, but that hardly mattered. He turned his free hand over and back, flexed the too-long fingers, rubbed at the little oval patches on the fingertips that let him use his phone’s touchscreen without taking a glove off. The morning air had been sharp, but for once, his hands were warm. His heart was even warmer.

Much as hadn’t wanted to leave Stephen's bed, he couldn’t exactly ask Stephen to blow off work just to stay with him. It was amazing enough that he’d asked him over for their first ‘date’ on a work night at all.

It was late into the night when Stephen had finally admitted that he had work in the morning. Near had practically fallen over himself trying to apologize for keeping him up – _up_ in more than one way, as they’d fooled around almost as soon as their dinner had arrived, played a bit more when they’d gone to bed, then woken up in the middle of the night for a third romp before Stephen had said a word about it. He didn't seem to mind, though. When he’d finally worked up the nerve to call Near and ask him out, he’d said, he hadn’t wanted to wait for a day off to see him.

Tired as he’d looked, Stephen had spent the whole morning smiling, and he hadn’t wanted Near to simply leave. He’d made them coffee and let Near have free reign to pilfer a quick breakfast from his kitchen while he was getting ready for work. He’d then insisted on driving Near home himself, claiming it was ‘on the way to work’ and thus no trouble at all, even before Near had actually told him where he lived. They’d parted ways with tender kisses in the front seat of his car. Just thinking about it made his heart thump and his skin tingle.

As he got off the elevator, his happy train of thought was immediately derailed. Matt was sitting on the floor by his apartment door, playing some handheld video game device. He was wrapped up enough in his game that he didn't seem to notice Near’s quiet approach.

“Matt? What are you doing here?”

He looked up at Near through his ever-present orange-tinted goggles, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Hey, little dude. I, uh.. Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

Near anxiously started to tug at a curl of hair by his ear, forgetting he was wearing the gloves. The fabric caught on the texture of his hair and pulled too much, so he forced himself to stop.

“You could have simply called me.”

“Well _yeah_ , but just because I’ve got my stuff all on autopilot doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a legit agent. And mornings always were the busiest time of day.” He stood up, pocketing his game, and shrugged. “Didn't want to be tying up your phone during peak hours, you know?”

“I appreciate it, but my clients are mostly retired old women. Not too active, and not too demanding,” Near admitted, unlocking his door.

“Still, less awkward to do this in person,” Matt said cryptically, following Near inside his apartment.

If he was anxious before, he was doubly so now.

“What’s this about, Matt?” he asked, hoping the bluntness would cover his misgivings.

“ _Mello_ , what else?”

Matt sighed heavily, crashing back against a wall. He didn't bother taking his furry vest off, but didn't seem to mind waiting for Near to hang his coat and reverently put Stephen's gloves in a safe, out-of-the-way spot.

“Are the two of you all right?” Near finally asked, when it seemed Matt wasn’t willing to say anything else without prompting.

“I mean, I guess… Hell, I don't know,” Matt muttered. He drug his goggles up on top of his head, revealing grey-green eyes that Near wasn't sure he’d ever gotten a good look at without the orange filter before. “Have you noticed anything weird about Mello lately? I swear, he’s somehow even moodier than normal, like he’s on his fuckin’ man-period or something. I don't know if I did something to piss him off or what.”

Near frowned. He was getting a foreboding sense of déjà vu.

“I hadn’t noticed… not when it’s just me and him anyway. But it sounds familiar.”

“Tell me,” Matt said calmly.

“Honestly, it… It sounds like the way he was acting with _me_ , just before…”

“...yeah?”

Near shifted his feet nervously. “...before I broke up with him.”

Matt blinked with surprise. “ _Y_ _ou_ broke up with _him?_ He told me it was a mutual thing.”

“We talked it out eventually and agreed to it, but… it was me who ended it,” Near admitted, a bit sad and more than a bit ashamed to be talking about this behind Mello’s back. He could only hope that revealing it would help somehow. Maybe it wasn’t his place to interfere, but he had come to like Matt quite a lot. He deserved a heads-up. Near took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“He was being.. moody, as you say. Hostile, even. Not _physically_ hostile of course, but… it was as if he was mad at me all the time, and I never knew why. We’d be having a good time, and he’d suddenly get angry and storm out. And even when we...”

Near dropped onto his couch, feeling his face flush pink. He lowered his voice almost to a whisper.

“When we were in bed together, he wouldn’t stay the night anymore. He _refused_ to. He’d want to leave the second we were done. And he wouldn't talk about it when I tried to figure out what was wrong.”

“Oh,” Matt breathed, sad recognition written all over his face. Matt rolled Near’s desk chair toward the couch and dropped down onto it so he could face him directly.

“So... Did you ever find out why he was acting like that?”

“No, I’ve never been able to get a straight answer out of him. It’s only ever upset him when I’ve tried to ask, and it’s not as if there’s any chance of us getting back together anyway. It hardly seems worth losing a best friend just to get closure on something long dead.”

Matt leaned forward, elbows on knees, bending himself in half so he could look Near in the eye.

“Dude, you gotta level with me here. Give me _something._ A theory, a guess, anything.” He sighed, looking abjectly miserable, and for a guy who always seemed to be smiling and laughing, that was a hard thing to look at. “Mello’s... he’s an asshole sometimes, yeah, but.. we kinda _fit,_ you know? I can’t be losing him already...”

Near sighed sympathetically. “I’m not sure any theory of mine would help. Mello doesn’t exactly have a great track record for relationships, but I’m sure ours falling apart was my fault, somehow. I must have done some subtle thing, something I didn't think about, that he misconstrued as an affront to him, or as an indication that I didn't like him anymore... My whole life people have misconstrued the things I do. I tried to be more mindful of that, for his sake, but… I suppose I failed.”

Near sank back into the couch, pulling at a piece of his hair a bit too hard.

“Back then, I wondered if there was some outside factor, maybe a client that was putting him in a constant bad mood, or… or maybe he was seeing someone else on the side. But that wasn’t the case, as far as I know. And the longer it went on, the harder it was to think of it as just us going through a rough patch or a phase. So... I ended it.”

“Just like that?” Matt blinked, confused. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything but… did you even _try_ to fix it?”

“Not really,” he admitted, shrugging. “But then, it was never all that serious between us in the first place.”

“Really? Cuz to hear him tell it, it seemed like it _was_ pretty serious...”

Now it was Near’s turn to be confused. He sat up straight again, squinting his eyes.

“It _wasn’t_ , though. I thought it was _headed_ in that direction, for a while, but that’s when he turned on me... And it certainly hurt to be treated that way, but a dysfunctional relationship like that didn't seem worth saving. I ended up cutting him off for a few weeks, because every time he called he’d still be hostile. Once he got over… _whatever_ it was, enough that he could be civil towards me, I explained why I’d been avoiding him, and we agreed that breaking things off was the best course of action. I don't know what exactly _he_ told you about it, but that’s what really happened.”

“So wait..,” Matt said, face scrunched up in thought. “He was acting like this – like _that_ – for _weeks?_ But he kept calling you up, right? Like he didn't actually want to end it?”

“Yes, but I attributed that to pride – I assumed he just didn't want to be the one who was dumped. I don't know why else he would’ve insisted on us staying together when all else suggested that he didn't want to be with me.”

“And.. he still wanted to at least be friends, even after all that? He didn't just… decide to stay pissy about it forever?”

Near shrugged. “Obviously so.”

“...huh.” Matt slumped back in his chair, a sort of awed, dumbfounded look on his face.

“What is it?”

“N-nothing man, it’s nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, Matt is confirmed as the smartest of the three, lol. Although perhaps a bit of a jerk for figuring out A THING and not sharing the revelation with the rest of the class. XD
> 
> Short chapter is shorttttt. :P


	12. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the (ir)regularly scheduled fluff. XD

The more ‘dates’ he had with Nate, the more Stephen began to realize why dating had never worked for him before.

They went out to restaurants a couple of times, but they were both such homebodies that it felt far more natural to just stay in. They stuck to the traditional dinner-and-a-movie format, but their dinner was either delivered or cooked in Stephen's kitchen, and the movie was on his TV wall instead of in a theater.

Naturally Stephen worried, like he worried about everything, that it wouldn’t be good enough. That _he_ wouldn’t be good enough. He’d always associated dating with stress and anxiety – it had always been about impressing a guy, looking his best, _acting_ his best, and if the act fell apart, everything else would quickly follow.

But Nate wasn’t like other guys he’d dated. With Nate, he didn’t _need_ the act. Nate didn't want to be wined-and-dined or taken to exotic places. He didn't care to be flattered and didn't need Stephen to impress him. He seemed happiest in quiet moments, when Stephen wasn’t trying too hard to be witty or charming, when he was relaxed enough to just be himself.

That wasn't to say their dates were boring. Nate had a definite wild side, and teasing it out into the open was quickly becoming Stephen's favorite hobby.

As much as he enjoyed watching movies with Near, a movie with Nate was an adventure that no AI could replicate. _Nate_ he could make out with during the boring parts. Nate gave spontaneous blowjobs when Stephen was more into the movie than he was, which really only encouraged him to pick movies Nate wouldn’t like. He was too smart for that, though, and would fight back with movies he knew Stephen would find boring. It was oh-so-easy then for Nate to counter his complaints by unzipping his pants and cheekily offering him something better he could do with his whining mouth.

From there, bad movie night quickly evolved into god-awful movie night, because the worse a job the movie did at entertaining them, the better a job it did at setting the mood. When the movie completely lost their attention, they’d end up full-on fucking on the couch. Stephen had to start keeping an extra bottle of lube stashed in the end table so he wouldn't have to run off to get some from the bedroom when Nate was feeling playful.

And damn if he didn't _love_ to get playful on the couch, where it was easy for him to straddle Stephen and ride his dick like an old-style mechanical bull.

Much as Stephen loved having Nate bouncing in his lap, watching ecstasy bloom on his face as he happily impaled himself, he found he loved the aftercare aspects too. Nate was skinny and physically rather weak, and as such, he completely wrecked his legs sometimes in his enthusiasm and would hardly be able to stand after the deed was done. He’d have to crash on the couch a while and rest; meanwhile, Stephen would clean the mess of lube and cum from his skin and then cover them both with a blanket for a nap. If it was too late for napping, he’d carry him bridal-style off to bed instead (amidst Nate’s halfhearted protests at having to be carried) for proper cuddles and blissful sleep.

In fact, a large portion of their ‘dates’ involved just sleeping. It was unintuitive at first to keep spending full nights together when Stephen had work in the morning, but he slept better with Nate in his arms than he ever did alone. Having him over on a work night ironically became an advantage – so long as they didn’t fool around half the night, he’d be far better rested than usual the next day.

It was hardly just an advantage for himself, either. Nate was a self-proclaimed insomniac, though Stephen never saw much evidence of that – he slept like a baby in his bed. It was only if they spent a couple of nights apart that he’d start to notice dark circles forming under Nate’s eyes. It bothered him enough that he’d drag Nate straight to bed some nights, just to let him sleep.

It wasn’t always so simple, though.

Having a boyfriend didn’t magically fix everything. Stephen still had his low points – granted, fewer and farther between than they had been – and he was reluctant to have Nate over when he was feeling like that. No matter how often Halle or his older sister had tried to tell him otherwise over the years, he always felt like that pathetic, depressed side of himself was a bother to people. And bothering people meant they’d like him less. It meant he risked driving away the few people he had in his life. He was willing to unload some of his burdens on Near, since he was just an AI, but he didn’t want to scare Nate away.

Nate seemed to _get it,_ though, more than anyone else ever had.

He seemed to know just when he was needed, showing up at his doorstep on days Stephen was afraid to invite him over for just those reasons. When Stephen asked, he’d simply say that he was missing him, that he wanted to be with him, and Stephen couldn’t refuse him that, nor did he really want to. Nate would greet him with a hug that left him melted against Stephen’s chest for long moments, like he hadn’t seen him in ages, even if it had only really been a day or two. And just like that, Stephen would already feel better by half, because he had tangible proof right there in his arms that he wasn’t a bother at all, that he was unquestionably _wanted_.

And sure, they’d mostly still just cuddle on the couch like any other date night, but there was something different about the feel of it. They didn’t play and tease each other, just shared warmth and skin and smiles, soft conversations and even softer kisses, and if things escalated beyond cuddling, it wouldn’t be Nate who set the pace. He was all about intensity when he took charge – and normally, he _did_. Even when Stephen was pounding him into the furniture, it was all at Nate’s enthusiastic behest, and all really under his control. Stephen had no complaints about that, but his own natural pace was a lot slower. And on nights like that, when Stephen was allowed to take over, Nate would never complain either. Stephen worried about that the first time, but Nate didn't seem to be holding back, just enjoying the softer ride.

He made sure to make Nate’s patience worthwhile. He would worship at every last inch of Nate’s skin with a congregation of lips and tongue. He’d take his time not just opening him up with his fingers, but finding new ways to pleasure him, making delicate, tender ministrations only fingers could accomplish. And when he did enter him at last, he’d do it slow, ease into him inch by inch, though he’d hardly need to be cautious by that point. He’d do it in a position that let him look into Nate’s eyes and dote on him further with gentle kisses, one that let Nate wrap his arms and legs around him and meld them together into one being. And when they both were completely spent, he’d spend long indulgent minutes holding onto that feeling, still nestled deep inside of Nate’s body, never wanting to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …did I just make a whole chapter of exposition? Exposition with porn in it, at that? Expornsition?
> 
> Yup. Yup, I did that. XD
> 
> ( I must have reworked this part like ten times, I kind of hate it. :x )
> 
> ( But maybe that’s only because I have stared too long at it... I hope... It’s a lot shorter than it was but prolly still too long for what it is. Editing is a constant battle against my own wordiness. XD )
> 
> Buttttt we needed the time lapse, lol. Just think of it as the montage in the middle of the movie (a smutty montage! The best kind, right?). Cuz ya know what? It’s also the literal midpoint of the story. Woo! Halfway done! :D


	13. Thanks-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now it becomes obvious that I wrote most of this story in November, lol.

When Near showed up at Mello's door on Thanksgiving Day, the blond was all smiles.

“Hey, creampuff! Happy NoFucksGiving,” Mello laughed, grabbing him up in a tight hug.

“You too,” Near said, with what little breath the hug afforded him. Mello let him go and waved him inside, taking one of the grocery bags he was carrying.

“So what’d ya bring?”

“In that one? Potato salad and a rotisserie chicken. Unsurprisingly, the grocery store deli had run out of turkey already.”

“Pssh, you know the drill here, pint-size cotton-thighs. On NoFucksGiving, the traditional shit can go fuck itself. What about the other one?”

Near held it up. “A box of wine.”

“You classy little motherfucker,” Mello cackled, leading the way to the kitchen. He had a strut to his step, like always, but he was dressed more casually than usual – just a black hoodie over yoga pants, as if, for once, he wasn’t trying to impress anybody.

Near shrugged it off. Maybe he’d been cleaning or something and just hadn’t changed clothes yet.

“So where’s Matt? I assumed he would be joining us this year.”

“Oh, he is. I sent him off to get provisions. He’s juggling at least three times the clients I am on that crazy-ass autopilot rig of his, he can afford it.”

“So.. You two are doing okay then?”

Mello squinted at him. “Yeah, why wouldn't we be?”

Near shrugged. “No reason.”

Near smiled to himself as he put the boxed wine in the fridge. He had to move a chocolate cheesecake to make room for it. He had a feeling Matt had bought that as well. Maybe they’d actually resolved whatever the hiccup was that Matt had come to him about early in the month. He hoped so.

“You’ve got Matt doing domestic errands for you now, hm? You two must be getting pretty serious.”

“Pfft, _serious_? Come on, it's _me_ we're talking about, of course it's not serious,” Mello scoffed.

“You haven't been seeing anyone else lately, have you? None that you've bragged to me about at any rate, and it's not like you to keep new conquests to yourself, Mello.”

Mello waved him away from the fridge and spent a few moments rearranging things, presumably making room for whatever Matt was going to be bringing later. He only answered the question when his back was turned and his face hidden in the refrigerator.

“Okay fine, so... _maybe_ I haven't been seeing anybody else. But so what? That doesn't mean we're exclusive or anything, it's coincidence.”

“And I suppose it's also coincidence that he's _here_ nearly every time I come over?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” As he shut the fridge door, Mello flipped a bit of blond hair over his shoulder, nose in the air, like the diva he was.

“What about him, then, Mello?”

“What _about_ him?”

“How does he feel about all of this? About you?”

Mello scowled at the question and dove into his pantry, hiding in there like he had in the fridge.

“How the hell am I supposed to know, anyway?” he snarled from behind a stack of cereal boxes.

“Have you ever tried to ask?”

“We're not touchy-feely people, okay? We don't talk about that crap. He comes over here, or I go over to his place, whenever the hell we feel like having a good fuck, and so we fuck, and that's it. There's nothing more to it. That's _it_.”

Near curled a bit of hair around his finger, smiling deviously.

“So… what does Matt like to have for breakfast?”

“Ha!” Mello scoffed, popping back out of the pantry a moment. “For your information, he doesn't _eat_ breakfast, smartass. He just smokes a cartridge of that e-cig thing he's always sucking on, and beyond that it's just coffee, like me.”

“How's he take it?” Near asked with a slightly raised brow. “His coffee, I mean.”

“Black, obviously, like me and everybody who’s not a total puss takes it.”

“Black coffee isn't hard to obtain, Mello. That seems like an awfully flimsy reason to stick around all night, for just coffee in the morning...”

“There's the morning sex too, nosy-ass.”

“Funny how it's only nosy when I’m pointing out you and Matt acting like an actual couple.”

“Whatever, bitch. Morning sex is awesome, that’s all there is to it. I ain't gotta justify that shit to you.” Mello jetted back toward the living room then.

“But _why_ is it so awesome, Mello?” Near persisted, following him to the couch.

“The hell are you asking _me_ for? If your boy's not giving you any, he's an idiot, and you're missing out.”

Mello turned on his TV wall and started idly clicking through the endless menus of options. Near rolled his eyes, tiring of Mello missing the point, or more likely, intentionally averting it.

“I'm asking you why it's so great _with Matt_. Is it possible that you like it because it's slower than the night before, less hurried and desperate? Or is it just because you were cuddling with him all night and woke up feeling all warm and soft and _close_ to him?” he teased, smirking.

“You're a fucking asshole, you know that, right?”

“I bet sometimes there's no morning sex at all, is there? Just cuddling and kissing and pillow talk,” he mused. “There's no shame in enjoying those things too, you know.”

“Shut up.”

Near did, then. The vitriol had gone from Mello's voice, and he'd been reduced to what Near could only describe as Mello's version of pouting – a grumpy, untalkative state existing between his usual venomous spite and whatever the venom was defending. It wasn't something to be poked at too hard, or he'd actually become upset. He’d gone too far already, probably, but egging Mello on was the only way to get anything meaningful out of him most times.

Mello shifted on the couch, looking Near over with what seemed like careful consideration – the kind of consideration Mello normally never had the time or patience for. When he finished looking at… _whatever_ he was looking at, he dropped his head back against the couch. His face was more on Near’s level now, but he avoided looking him in the eye.

“What do you know about it anyway, Near?” he muttered, quietly grouchy. “You never used to like that stuff. Why ya gotta grill _me_ about it?”

Near frowned at that, and sat up a little so he was facing Mello properly.

“What are you talking about? I liked ‘that stuff’ just fine. It was always you who would want to run off and avoid it.”

“I did not _run off,_ ” Mello grumbled, still refusing to look him in the eye.

“Yes you _did._ That’s _exactly_ what you did,” Near snapped back at him. “There at the end, you… that’s _all_ you did, was run off. You’d show up for a quick fuck and then you’d storm out as if I’d offended you somehow, as if... you were just _done_ with me. You used me to get off and then acted like you couldn’t stand to look at me after. God, Mello, it was like you hated me...”

Near hugged a knee to his chest and forced himself to look away from Mello's face, from those green eyes that were suddenly big and sorrowful. He hadn’t intended to lash out that way. It surprised him how much that particular wound still _hurt_ , more than a year after the fact.

“...I never hated you,” Mello whispered, the words nearly lost to the couch fabric. “I _never_ hated you, Near. Not for a second. Not ever.”

“Then _why_ , Mello?” Near sank back into the couch and tried once more to look Mello in the eye, no matter how much it stung that Mello still wouldn't. “Why did you push me away like that? To this day I still don’t… I’ve never understood just what went wrong between us. What did I do?”

He yanked on a piece of hair, awkwardly squirming in his seat and letting his eyes fall to his lap.

“Or more likely, I suppose, what _didn’t_ I do? I know I can be cold, but… I _tried_ with you, Mello. I tried not to be like that anymore. I tried to be _human_ for you. I’ve _been_ trying ever since, for god’s sake. I’m sure it probably was never good enough, but—”

Mello shushed him with a finger pressed to his lips. It soon became a gentle hand on his cheek.

“It wasn’t _you_ , okay? I promise it wasn’t.” He paused to flash him a defeated little half-smile, looking him in the eyes at last. “Believe me, Near, each and every time I’ve fucked up in my life, it was all on me. And that whole mess… hurting you, driving you away, that was a _big time_ fuck-up, and I’m.. I’m still sorry about it.”

“You still haven’t told me _why_ , though,” Near reminded him softly, and a little fearfully, because he could already anticipate the mood swing coming. It always did, one way or another, when Mello actually took a moment to speak seriously like this.

Mello shook his head and huffed in frustration. _And there it is,_ Near thought with trepidation.

“Damn it, I don’t fuckin’ _know_ why, Near! Because I’m _stupid_ , because I’m all fucked up inside, take your pick, I don't know! I don't know why.. why I...” Mello let his head fall on Near’s shoulder, mumbling miserably, “I wish I hadn’t, I wish I...”

Near sat blinking for a moment. That wasn't quite the direction he’d expected that mood swing to go in. Mello's anger he could handle, but this…

He reached up a tentative hand to pet Mello's hair. It was all he really could do with Mello sitting half on top of his other arm.

“You are not stupid, Mello,” he told him gently. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have drudged all that up..”

Mello shook his head, which really just ingratiated his face further into the crook of Near’s neck.

“It’s okay, I... Fuck, it’s stupid of me to get upset about it now, right? It’s been ages...” Mello slowly lifted himself off of Near, like he’d just then realized what he’d been doing. He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, the cuff coming away with a telltale dampness on it. “Besides, we’re friends now, right? We should be able to talk about this shit by now without me freaking out, shouldn’t we? Isn't that what normal people do?”

Near shrugged and tried to smile for him. “How can we hope to know? Neither of us has ever been normal.”

“Pssh, yeah, you got that right, creampuff.”

Mello flipped himself around and sat against him, letting his head drop back onto Near’s shoulder with a sigh. He pulled Near’s arm around himself so it wouldn’t just be stuck uselessly behind his back. He held Near’s hand atop his stomach, lacing their fingers together lazily, and then he flipped the subject of conversation as well.

“So hey, what about you and the hot client, huh? You’re over at his place every other night, at least. Now _that_ seems serious.”

“How do you even know about that? I don't tell you everything about my sex life. Unlike _some people,_ ” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Because when you're with him is the only time you don't answer my texts right away, smartass. It’s not that hard to figure out.”

Near was quiet a moment, his free hand toying with the drawstring on Mello's hoodie.

“...I suppose it is,” he said softly.

“Serious, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Mello said, uncharacteristically soft himself. “For real, you deserve to be happy.”

He craned up his neck a bit to see Near’s face, though not so much that his head would lift off from his shoulder. “You _are_ happy, aren’t you? With him?”

Near let a puff of laughter escape his throat and a smile steal onto his face. “I think I might be, actually. I don’t know that I ever have been before, though, so it’s sort of hard to judge.”

“Idiot, you are and you know it,” Mello snickered, snuggling closer against him. Near let his arms drape around him in a loose hug.

“I would like to see you happy, too, Mello. And I like Matt. I really do. So if it’s not serious right now, then maybe… maybe you should _let_ it be. Give him a chance to be something more than just your favorite hook-up, you know?”

“...yeah. Yeah, maybe I should.”

The door opened then, and in shuffled the red-headed gamer himself, loaded down with grocery and liquor store bags. He spotted the two of them on the couch and paused, dropping one handful of stuff onto the carpet so he could drag his orange goggles up to rest in his hair, an eyebrow raised at them.

“Don’t tell me you started the party without me,” he laughed awkwardly. “Shit, I usually don't hit the sad drunk stage ‘til at least 10 at night, even on a holiday.”

Mello pulled himself up off of Near, off the couch, and stretched high. His hoodie rode up, showing off just how well the yoga pants fit his form. Matt blatantly ogled him, and Near wondered if perhaps that outfit was more purposeful than he’d given Mello credit for.

“Nah, just the stupid _non-_ drunk kind of sad for now, Matty-boy,” he said casually, moving to take some of the bags off Matt's hands. “Fuckin’ bullshit holidays. You know how it is.”

Matt just smiled, and he cupped Mello's face with his free hand.

“So come ‘ere a sec and let me cheer you up, babe.”

He pulled Mello in for a kiss before he had time to react. Near could see Mello's always-tense muscles relax as the seconds ticked by, saw him sneak a hand up Matt's chest. When Matt let him go, it was with a grin and a wink.

“Better?” he asked cheekily.

“Maybe,” Mello sassed back. “Depends on what you brought me.”

Matt shrugged, still grinning. “The traditional coin locker Thanksgiving shit: chocolate, booze, couple of frozen pizzas, couple of pre-made pies... And the traditional Mello stuff – namely, more booze and more chocolate.”

“I knew there was a reason I was keeping you around,” Mello snickered. He fisted Matt's striped shirt, hauling him in for a brief but crushing kiss, and then left Matt standing dazed in the wake of it as he strutted off toward the kitchen with half of the groceries.


	14. giving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a long one this time! :)

Misa banged her chubby little fists on her highchair’s tray, squishing the bits of food left there. Most of the rest of her leftovers were stuck in her fuzzy black hair.

“You know, as beautiful as she is, she looks a lot more like Kiyomi than you, Halle.” Stephen grinned cheekily at his best friend. “People are gonna think _you’re_ the adopted one here.”

Misa squealed and bounced, as if she agreed, and that got both Stephen and Kiyomi laughing.

Halle scoffed. “You just wait ‘til she’s a teenager. I guarantee, she’ll be _begging_ us to let her bleach her hair blonde so she can look more like her _cool_ mom.”

Misa began fussing then, seemingly impatient with the adults’ endless after-dinner chatter. She pounded her fists on the tray again and whined. She wasn’t crying yet, but she was definitely sending her mothers some stern ultimatums. Kiyomi smiled apologetically to Stephen, rising from the table.

“I should really get her cleaned up and put to bed. Please excuse me,” she said politely, unhinging the tray to free little Misa.

Halle tugged at Kiyomi’s sweater sleeve before she could get away, prompting her to bend down for a moment so Halle could kiss her cheek. She rolled her eyes at it, but as she walked off with the baby on her hip, she was smiling.

The moment her wife was out of the room, Halle hopped up from the dinner table and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge, popping them open quickly and handing one to Stephen as she sat back down.

“So where’ve you _been_ lately anyway? I’m surprised I haven't gotten more texts from you.”

“Oh, well..,” Stephen chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry for the radio silence, but I’ve uh.. kind of been seeing someone.”

“Are you serious? And you haven't even kept your bestie up to date with gossip?” Halle said with mock offense. “Spill, man, what’s his name? Where'd you meet him? Is he cute? I need details here!”

“His name’s Nate, and he’s.. he’s not even just _cute_ , he’s goddamned adorable,” Stephen said, a big smile coming to his face just saying it aloud. He’d been reluctant to mention Nate at all during dinner, but now that the words were giddily tumbling out, he couldn't quite remember why that was. “And don’t gloat, but… I actually met him at a bar, on that night that you came over and convinced me to get out and meet people...”

“Holy _shit,_ Stephen!” Halle grinned so wide he thought her cheeks were going to split open. “Hell, I thought you seemed a lot happier than when I saw you last. What did I tell you, huh?”

“I told _you_ not to gloat,” Stephen said, rolling his eyes.

“And _I_ never agreed to that,” Halle laughed, taking a healthy glug from her beer bottle. “So that’s been… a month, give or take? God, I can’t remember the last time you had a guy last more than a weekend.”

Stephen shrugged, taking a sip from his own beer. “It’s the job, Halle. Nobody wants to waste their time on somebody that’s gonna be gone in a month or two anyway.”

“But this.. Nate, was it? He doesn’t mind?” she asked, her face settling into a soft smile.

“I guess not. I mean, I did _tell_ him, right up front, but… I don't know. We don't dwell on it, haven't really talked about it at all since then. We’re just… enjoying the time I’ve got, I suppose.”

“So why didn’t you invite him along? You know we wouldn’t have minded,” Halle asked, placing a hand atop his on the table. “Or do you not think he could earn your over-protective best friend’s approval?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s..,” Stephen muttered, stumbling over his words and shuffling his feet nervously under the table. “We’ve not been seeing each other _that_ long, relatively speaking, and we both know it might only last another month, ‘til I ship off on a different assignment… I don’t know. I thought it might seem weird to be inviting him to meet people, like it might make this whole thing seem too serious and scare him off or something.”

“So in other words, you were too chicken to ask him?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he laughed. “Besides, it’s not like he had nothing to do for the holiday. He mentioned that he was getting together for a kind of Friendsgiving thing of his own with this guy Mello, the friend he was with when we met. It didn't seem right to mess up his plans, you know?”

“You worry too much, sweetheart. I bet he wouldn’t have minded,” Halle said gently.

“Yeah, maybe...”

Stephen was cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out to check it.

“Uh, speak of the devil, Mello's calling me,” he said, surprised. As he tapped the button to accept it, he mumbled, “I hope nothing’s wrong..”

The video call opened up to a loud, and clearly very drunk, Mello waving and yelling, “Heyooooo!”

Halle stifled a laugh. “I'm guessing they’re fine.”

Feeling his face go red, Stephen hurried to Halle’s living room, where the sound wouldn’t carry so easily toward the nursery. He gave the phone a halfhearted wave back.

“Hi Mello. What’s going on?”

“Hey, I'm gonna level with you, man, cuz I think you’re cool as hell,” Mello slurred, bringing his face closer to the phone to talk in lower, more conspiratorial tones. “But it’s gettin’ late, and _some_ of us really wanna give _thanks_ , if you know what I mean...”

“Not sure I _want_ to know what you mean..,” Stephen muttered. Halle came up snickering beside him to eavesdrop.

“...but yer boy is still _here_ , and I meeeeeean, I could totally take Matt in the other room and fuck ‘is brains out anyway, but that’s kind of awkward, right? And then what, it’s fuckin’ _Thanksgiving_ and my best cotton puff pal doesn’t get any hot gravy? That shit ain’t right either. So you should come and get him already! He misses you and that big ol’ turkey baster of yours!”

Halle snorted, trying to contain her laughter. “I like this guy!”

“Jesus, um,” Stephen mumbled, mortified, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Where’s Nate now? Can you just hand the phone over to him, please?”

“Heyyyy now, who’s the hot blonde chick? You’re not cheating, are you?”

“I.. I _don’t_ even.. She’s a _friend_ , Mello. Can you just get Nate for me?” Stephen asked while Halle mugged for the camera over his shoulder, clearly having a hard time stifling her giggles.

“Nooooo, _you’re_ supposed to be coming to get him from _me,_ dumbass, so we can all get _stuffed_ already,” Mello argued.

“Mello, what the hell are you doing?” came Nate’s voice from somewhere in the background. Stephen breathed a sigh of relief.

“Nate, save me from this, please..,” Stephen said as loud as he dared, to keep from waking the baby and incurring Kiyomi’s wrath. Stephen moved away from Halle, retaking his seat at the kitchen table.

Nate and Mello argued in muffled tones for a minute, the phone camera’s image shifting around too fast to comprehend as Nate tried to take it from Mello, and Mello tried to keep it away. Nate finally seemed to win the phone away from his drunken friend, appearing front and center.

“I'm sorry about him,” Nate said. The background moved behind him, and Mello's incomprehensible complaining got quieter. “He does have a bad habit of overdoing it on holidays, and Matt initiating a turkey themed drinking game didn’t exactly help matters...”

Something was bugging Stephen about the look on his face. It seemed like more than just annoyance at his friend’s obnoxious drunken antics.

“Is everything okay over there, besides the obvious? I mean like, were you guys just partying too hard or is something actually wrong? Mello was saying I needed to come and pick you up...”

Nate put on a crooked smile. Stephen could see in it that he’d definitely been drinking a lot too, even if he was conducting himself far better than his friend.

“It’s a bit of both, I guess, but it’s nothing that you need to worry about.”

“So? Tell me anyway,” Stephen gently insisted.

Nate shrugged. “What’s there to say? It’s a family-oriented holiday, and all three of us happen to be former coin locker babies, so… I don't know. You never fully get over being an institute kid, I suppose. Get a bunch of us together at the holidays, and it’s bound to turn into a pity party. Especially if one of ‘us’ is Mello. He had it the roughest of us all, I think...”

Stephen frowned sympathetically. Growing up in the state foster institute wasn't something Nate liked talking about – was something he _never_ would talk about unless he’d had a few drinks, in Stephen's experience. He wondered if Mello was the same way.

“I _can_ come and get you, if you want me to. We just finished up dinner a bit ago, and Kiyomi – my friend’s wife – she’s putting the baby down to sleep now, so I was gonna head home pretty soon anyway I think.”

Stephen looked back up to Halle, just to check that that was okay. He found she was smiling at him, and she nodded silent permission at him.

“I’d like that, if it’s not too much trouble,” Nate said. His voice was neutral, but his face belied relief at the offer. “I do very much want to see you...”

Stephen couldn’t help smiling at that. “Me too. So hey, uh, you want to kind of meet my best friend real quick? Just over the phone I mean.”

“Sure,” Nate said, a little smile growing on his face too. “You’ve managed to put up with mine often enough, after all.”

Halle was bouncing with excitement as Stephen stood to rejoin her. He grabbed her around the shoulders so they could both squeeze into the camera’s vision.

“Oh my god, he _is_ cute,” she said in a loud whisper, clearly trying to make sure Nate heard it.

“So uh, Nate, this is Halle, and Halle, that’s Nate,” Stephen said, laughing at the awkwardness of doing such a thing through a phone screen.

“Hello,” Nate said with a nervous little wave.

“Hi, Nate!” Halle said, waving back. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name that Stephen's been gushing over all evening...”

“Shut up!” Stephen laughed, bumping against her. She smirked at him – _payback for keeping him a secret from me,_ her eyes seemed to say.

“Has he, now?” Nate chuckled.

“Mmhmm. I think he’s smitten,” Halle giggled. “So you’d better treat him right, okay? He’s the softhearted sort.”

“Halle..!”

“I will be sure to keep that in mind,” Nate was saying, with a serenely amused smile on his face, when Mello appeared suddenly from behind him, throwing his arms around the albino’s neck and making the phone shake around.

“Hey now blondie, this one can be a big softie too, don’t let him fool ya!” Mello slurred. He brought a hand up and started demonstrating that by squishing down the fluff of Nate’s hair. “See? Soft as all cottony hell. So you tell tall, dark, and hung over there to get off my damn phone and come and cuddle with him, or else _I’m_ gonna hafta.”

“I’ll do that,” Halle snorted. She backed off then, presumably so she wouldn't blow out the microphone with her uncontrollable cackling.

“Nate, I’ll be there soon to rescue you,” Stephen said, stifling a laugh himself. “Just text me the address and, uh… try not to let Mello molest you too much in the meantime, okay?”

“Thank you,” Nate sighed, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Stephen said with a wave, and hung up. He still had a smile lingering on his face when he looked up to find Halle grinning at him.

“What?” he asked, trying to be nonchalant about it.

“You’re in love,” she said softly.

“No way,” he tried to laugh it off. “It’s way too soon to be saying stuff like that, come on...”

“Doesn’t seem to matter. You totally are.”

A baby’s cry rang through the apartment before Stephen could further defend himself.

“Oh dear..,” Halle sighed.

“I’d better scoot,” Stephen said, already grabbing his coat. “Tell Kiyomi I said bye.”

“Yeah yeah, get on out of here, Romeo,” she laughed, hurrying off to the other room to help with the baby.

* * *

When he got to Mello's apartment, a redhead answered the door, swaying a bit on his feet.

“Matt, I presume?”

“In the flesh,” he confirmed, a dopey drunken grin overtaking his face.

When Matt just stood in the doorway, not letting him in, Stephen cleared his throat and awkwardly introduced himself. “Uh, I’m Stephen. I’m Nate’s—”

“Yeeeeah I figured,” Matt interrupted, finally moving aside. Stephen stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind himself as Matt had already wandered away. Mello was passed out and snoring on an enormous zebra-striped couch, missing his shirt.

Matt headed toward what appeared to be the kitchen, calling out, “Yo, N— um, shit… Nathan?”

Nate appeared from around the corner, nearly running into him.

“It’s just _Nate_ ,” he grumbled.

“Right, that’s it,” Matt said. “Sorry, I suck with names, man.”

The grumpy look on Nate’s face fell away when he spotted Stephen, and he rushed over to meet him on unsteady legs. He crashed against Stephen's chest, knocking the wind out of him, and wrapped his arms tight around his waist. He melted against him, and only then spoke a quiet “hi.”

“Hi,” Stephen chuckled back at him, petting his hair. “Ready to go home, sweetness?”

“I wanna come home with _you_ ,” Nate drunkenly whined.

“That’s what I meant,” he laughed, and hugged Nate tighter to himself.

“Good,” came the muffled reply.

Stephen helped him put his old grey coat on. It was bitter cold out tonight, so he took off his own yellow scarf to wrap around Nate’s neck instead, knowing he’d need it more. Nate squished the fuzzy, bulky yarn between his fingers with grave reverence.

After getting Matt's assurance that he’d remember to lock the door behind them, and that he’d stay the night to look after Mello, he guided Nate down to his car. He was unusually quiet, and simply held onto Stephen's hand as the car headed for home.

“Nate? Are you okay?” he gently asked.

He nodded ‘yes,’ but Stephen didn't quite believe it. He decided to try and ask about something he thought seemed innocent enough, just to get his mind off whatever seemed to be wrong. He’d wondered about it for a while anyway, and Matt's faux pas a few minutes ago had renewed the curiosity.

“So… is Nate really not short for anything? Or is it Nathaniel instead of Nathan, or something like that?”

He regretted asking almost immediately, because the melancholy look on Nate’s face deepened into a harsh scowl.

“No. Nobody thought it out that far, so it’s just Nate. Just stupid _Nate_.”

He held Stephen’s hand a little tighter, rubbing at his fingers. The car was driving itself anyway, so Stephen took the cursory hand off the wheel to touch his face.

“What do you mean, sweetness? I don't think it’s a bad name.”

“...it’s not so bad when _you_ say it,” he mumbled. He wouldn't look him in the eye, but he leaned into Stephen’s hand on his cheek. “But it’s a stupid, stupid, _nothing_ name, Nate River. I hate it, I _hate_ it, I...”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay...” Stephen leaned over the armrests to kiss his forehead, his cheek, but he wrested himself away.

“It’s _not_ okay. Nobody gave a damn what my name should be. It was the first thing some paper-pusher thought of, and that’s all.”

He dropped Stephen's hand and drew up a foot onto the car seat, hugging the knee to his chest. With his other hand, he started tugging at his hair compulsively.

“Matt and Mello, they have _real_ names. Matt's parents died. Mello got taken away from his. But at least somebody cared enough to name them. Somebody _wanted_ them. I got dumped at the state institute the day I was born, without a damn name, without _anything_ , because my stupid parents didn’t opt for filtering, but they didn’t want a genetic freak either. Nobody wants a child like that, nobody… nobody wanted _me_.”

Stephen gently pried Nate’s fingers out of his tangled hair – he was pulling on it so hard by then that Stephen feared he’d rip a chunk out if he didn't stop him.

“Somebody wants you _now_ ,” he told him softly. “You know that, don’t you?”

The car had already parked itself in the lot outside his building, but Stephen made no move to get out. He just took Nate’s hands in his own, held them up to kiss his chilled little fingers, and waited for Nate to remember how to talk again.

“I think I need another drink,” he said, when he finally did.

Stephen sighed and touched his face again, wishing he could erase all the hurt he saw there with just his hands.

“I think you’ve had more than enough for one night, sweetheart.. How about we relax and watch a movie instead?”

“...okay.”

Stephen shot him a smile before getting out of the car, intending to come around and open Nate’s door for him, but before he’d even shut his own door, Nate was crawling over the armrests to follow him out the driver’s side. Stephen hardly had time to fuss at him for fear he’d get stuck or hurt himself before he was already out and standing on wobbly legs beside him, clinging to him by fistfuls of his coat. There was no sense in fussing then, so he just hugged the little albino to his side, locked the car, and walked him up to his apartment.

As he was hanging their coats up, he had an idea. He stood on tiptoe to grab a small shopping bag from the top of a tall bookshelf – a hiding spot high enough that Nate probably wouldn’t have been able to see it, and certainly couldn't hope to reach it. When he turned back around, he found Nate watching him curiously, swaying slowly beside the coat-hooks.

“I got something for you. I was thinking of keeping it back for Christmas, but there’s no real reason you shouldn’t have it now...”

Stephen put an arm around Nate’s shoulders, steadying him, and handed him the bag. Nate studied the bag itself, looking perplexed, like his drunken mind was clumsily weighing the ethics of peeking at a gift a month early. Stephen kissed the side of his face.

“Open it, sweetness.”

He did, then, and pulled a pair of synth-leather gloves from the bag. He fingered the supple leather, colored a dark red that had reminded Stephen of the shirt Nate had been wearing the night they met. The insulation lining inside was off-white and soft as flannel pajamas. He hesitated to actually try them on; instead he just looked up at Stephen with a strange kind of awe on his face.

“I hope they fit okay. All I really had to go on was that they needed to be way too small for me,” Stephen laughed, and was glad when Nate took that as permission and pulled one of them on. His eyes widened, and he quickly donned the second one. He held his hands out, flexing the fingers, still with that awestruck look in his eyes.

Stephen squeezed his shoulder. “So..? What’s the verdict?”

Nate stared up at him with huge eyes. His lip trembled, but he seemed to have forgotten how to speak. He threw his arms around Stephen's neck instead, lifting up on tiptoes to hug him tight. When he did find the words, he spoke them muffled against Stephen’s throat.

“Perfect. Completely perfect.”

Stephen let his hands fall to Nate’s waist, thumbs rubbing little circles in the dips by his hipbones.

“Good. You deserve nothing less than perfect,” he murmured into his soft white hair.

Nate backed off just enough to meet his eyes, but he looked conflicted and disbelieving. Stephen did his best to kiss his doubts away.

He knew Nate preferred tea, but in interest of sobering him up, he made him some strong coffee instead. Stephen put on a cute movie at low volume, more for background noise than anything else, and threw a blanket over them both while Nate nursed the warm mug. He held Nate while he finished his coffee, and long after he was done with it. He hardly let Nate out of his reach at all, in fact. Since they’d met, Nate had been more of a comfort to him than he could possibly know, and he wanted to be that for Nate now.

He’d never talked about himself, about his past, as candidly as he had in the car. It was disheartening that he was only willing to do so when his inhibitions were impaired with alcohol. He had never seen Nate like this, hadn't known that he was struggling with his own kind of loneliness, though there were times he’d guessed at it. He seemed to understand Stephen too well not to have had similar issues.

Nate had laid his new gloves on the coffee table where he could see them easily; every so often he'd gaze at them for a long moment, and then he'd smile softly and snuggle closer to Stephen. They didn't really talk, just inconsequential murmurings during the quietest parts of the movie, little reassurances that they were together now, and that meant everything would be fine.

By the time the movie ended, Nate was curled up in his lap, his face nestled against Stephen's throat, half-asleep as Stephen massaged his scalp, trying to soothe away whatever soreness Nate might have caused by pulling at his hair earlier.

He woke up a bit as Stephen was carrying him to bed, and once there, sleepily demanded clothes off and kisses. He obliged him that far – Nate clearly needed sleep, but seemed determined to strip them both no matter what Stephen might’ve said to dissuade it.

He snuggled close and couldn't deny how soothing the skin-on-skin contact was. He dotted Nate's face with soft kisses, then his neck, his arm, all the way down to his five lily-white fingertips, before he returned to claim his mouth.

He still hesitated to call it love, even in his own mind. It was still too new, too fragile, and thanks to his job, would probably prove temporary. But this feeling, this thing he wasn't calling love, he could put it into every kiss, even if he couldn't put it into a word. He could take all the soft, squishy feelings piling up in his heart and shower Nate’s skin with them. He could hold him tight and make sure he knew just how much he was wanted, show Nate how precious he was to him with every touch. He could spend the whole lazy holiday weekend proving all the things he feared to voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misa’s cameo as a baby might be my favorite weird joke in this whole thing. XD
> 
> ANYWAY, explanation time! I think this stuff can stand on its own from context in the fic itself, but some of you might be interested, so…
> 
> “State foster institutes” are basically large-scale, government sponsored orphanages, at least one in each state, maybe more for states with bigger metro areas. Society by this point has become increasingly defined by social isolation, which is due in part to tech advances. A majority of people work from home if at all possible (there was a throwaway line back in Ch2 to that effect), which contributes to that isolation. Families as we tend to think of them have become less commonplace, and with that, the foster-care system at some point became unsustainable, so orphanages made a comeback.
> 
> The institutes are normal enough in this world that it seemed weird to go into detail about them within the story, from either character’s POV, as they wouldn’t be sitting around thinking about their sociological origins… :P
> 
> So yeah, no Wammy’s in this world, and M&M&N each grew up in different institutes. M&M came from other states, while Near’s institute was probably pretty close to where our story takes place (the nebulous ‘somewhere Midwest’ city), because he didn't care enough to want to get far away like M&M would have. 
> 
> “Coin locker babies” is a slang term that institute kids call themselves. It comes from a book title that got stuck in my head years ago, involving guys who were abandoned in train station coin lockers as babies. Seemed legit enough. XD
> 
> ...does that even happen to other people, getting random phrases stuck in your head? It’s like earworm songs but somehow more insidious, lol.


	15. Cold

It had to have been the strangest double date he'd ever been on – Mello's idea, of course.

They'd gone bowling, which was fine in itself – any activity that wasn’t outdoors was a fine choice for December, in Stephen's opinion. The problem was that Mello and Matt had done less bowling and more drinking, making out, and making completely unsubtle dirty jokes about the balls and pins.

Stephen was really feeling his age after a few turns. Nate only played along with his friends’ immature silliness to a point, and neither of them had drunk much at all compared to Matt and Mello. Even so, Stephen had started to feel like he was playing chaperone, hanging out with the three 22 and 23 year olds. 28 suddenly felt a lot more like 'pushing 30.’ By the end of it, Stephen was ready for a quiet night at home, and thankfully Nate was of the same mind.

The night had taken a turn for the better once they were alone. They were making a proper date night of it now, laughing at a cheesy Christmas flick and enjoying their first eggnog of the season. After his second cup, Nate struggled, giggling, to escape Stephen's groping and went stumbling off to use the bathroom, leaving his phone behind on the couch where it had fallen from his pocket.

Nate’s phone buzzed almost the moment he was gone, the screen lighting up briefly. Stephen thought about calling out to let him know he’d gotten a message, but decided against it. It was probably just Mello drunk-texting him anyway.

It vibrated again a few seconds later, the screen alighting once more, and Stephen's curiosity started to get to him. He wasn’t a nosy person, really, but Nate had always seemed hyper-sensitive about letting people see his phone screen unless he was purposely showing them something on it, and Stephen had enough of a buzz from the spiked eggnog that it didn’t take much to go from idle curiosity to ‘fuck it, why not.’

He tapped on the screen to make it light up again. It was locked, but the truncated notifications still showed. They weren't text messages after all, but alerts from some app called ‘Agent Access.’

_NEAR: Client MARIA WEDY requested weather forecast. Auto…_

_NEAR: Client MARIA WEDY set alarm. Auto response generated…_

Stephen blinked at it. The screen automatically turned itself off after only a couple of seconds, so he tapped to turn it back on a second time, and then a third.

_Near..?_

Suddenly the pleasant whiskey buzz wasn’t so pleasant anymore. He kept staring at the words, hoping against hope that it was just the alcohol making him read it wrong, or maybe it was an unrelated acronym or something – just another crazy coincidence on top of all the other crazy coincidences that had led him to this night.

A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He fought it down and drug himself off the couch. He hurried to the back of the room, where he’d moved the console table (and the IncredAI with it) some time ago, since he didn’t use it so much anymore. He heard the toilet flush in his bathroom, but steeled himself and quickly switched the device on anyway.

“Hey Near,” he said quietly, so that Nate wouldn’t hear. “What time is it?”

“It’s currently 10:46 pm, Stephen,” Near responded cheerily, the IncredAI’s light glowing blue.

Nate’s phone buzzed softly in his hand, the screen lighting up with another notification, not truncated this time, since it was new:

_NEAR: Client STEPHEN GEVANNI requested timestamp. Auto response generated. Tap to view._

Stephen bit down hard on his bottom lip, unable to take his eyes off his name on the screen of Nate’s phone.

“...you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head like it was a weird dream he could just dismiss, but all the puzzle pieces were falling into place already, faster than he could deny them.

“Did you say something, Stephen?” Nate said, poking his head out of the bedroom door. Even half-drunk though, it only took him a second to realize something was wrong. Stephen saw the recognition come over his face as he stared at his own phone in Stephen's hand, and at the IncredAI device sitting idle beside him, its telltale blue light glowing. He dropped the hand towel he was holding to the floor, his hands coming up to cover his mouth.

“No, no, god, no..,” he mumbled into his hands.

“What the hell is this, Nate?” Stephen demanded, his voice flat though his hands were shaking.

Nate took a few slow, shaky steps into the room, as if approaching a wild bear.

“I… I can explain, I… Can you just.. Can you turn that thing off first?” Nate asked, pointing a trembling arm toward the IncredAI, toward the thing he’d thought of as Near.

“You tell me what the hell’s going on first,” Stephen said through gritted teeth.

“I will, I _will_ , but you _have_ to turn it off before I can... _Please,_ Stephen...”

“Fine,” he said, cold and terse, and promptly flipped the thing over to yank out the power source. Naturally, it just switched to its backup battery. Holding up Nate’s phone in front of him for good measure, Stephen told the device, “Near, power down now.”

Nate’s phone screen blinked on again.

_NEAR: Client STEPHEN GEVANNI requested device power off. Complying in 10 seconds. Tap to override._

“Okay, shutting down now,” said the black box with Nate’s voice, and 10 seconds after that, the blue light went out and the device was off. Stephen set Nate’s phone down beside it.

“All right, it’s off, so talk,” he said harshly. “Go right ahead and try to convince me this isn’t what it looks like, Nate.”

Nate’s bottom lip quivered, but at least he gave Stephen the dignity of looking him in the eye.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” he said quietly. “The IncredAI… _Near…_ it’s… it’s only partially an AI. A rudimentary one, at that, no better than Alexa or Diane or any of the others. It can perform basic functions on its own, with a voicebank, but for the rest...”

“It’s _you.”_

“...yes. It’s me. It’s _always_ been me.” Nate paused to take a shaky breath. “It’s my job, Stephen. All of the different IncredAI voices, they’re just agents, like me...”

Stephen crossed his arms over his chest, scowling.

“Look, I’m not an _idiot_ , okay? It’s not like I could ignore the similarities over time. But for fuck’s sake, it’s supposed to be a damn AI, why would I ever suspect that— _god_ , I mean, I just eventually assumed you must have been the voice provider for the thing, and I thought _that_ would be the world’s craziest coincidence, or… or _fate_ , even, that I happened to meet you. I just didn't say anything about it because I thought _that_ would be fucking awkward or make _me_ look creepy, but _this_..?! This is insanity! This is _so_ fucking far beyond creepy, Nate, or Near, or… whoever the fuck you are!”

Nate took a tentative step closer. “It wasn’t on _purpose,_ I… I never thought I’d just run into you one day. I probably shouldn’t have even been an option for you when you set the thing up, it… it was using your listed address, because you had the location service turned off... We aren't supposed to be able to _have_ clients that live less than 500 miles from us, just to keep that from happening...”

“You could have told me,” Stephen said quietly. “A hundred times, you could have _told_ me, and you _didn’t_.”

“I'm _sorry_ , Stephen, I… I didn't _want_ to keep it from you, I _had_ to. I’m under a strict non-disclosure agreement, I… I wouldn’t just lose my job, they could sue me for all I’m worth if they ever found out that I’d breached it...”

“And what, you didn’t trust me not to blab about it? Even after all this time.. that we’ve…” He squeezed his eyes shut, ran a hand through his hair, and seethed a labored breath through gritted teeth, just trying to keep himself together. “God, were you _ever_ planning on telling me?”

“I _wanted_ to, Stephen, I swear it, but I… I didn't know _how_ , and the longer we were together, I…”

“You _what_ , Nate?” he spat venomously. “You liked having the advantage of figuring me out through this.. _thing,_ so you could play the perfect boyfriend in person?!”

Stephen smacked the IncredAI with the back of his hand and sent the cheap plastic thing toppling off into the floor. Nate flinched, like he’d hit _him_ , and he supposed, in a way, he had.

“No, _no,_ it’s not like that—”

“Am I a game to you?” Stephen shouted, cutting him off. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re just a goddamned _kid_ playing games with people’s feelings, aren’t you?”

Nate shook his head desperately, clutching at his own shirt, right where his heart should have been, assuming he even really had one.

“Stephen, please, you.. you have to believe me, I...”

“Believe you? _Believe you?!_ Are you kidding?! You’ve been lying to me since the day we met! _Spying_ on me long before that! I don't even… I don't even know who you _are_ , or what I’m supposed to call you. Is Nate even your real name?”

“I.. _yes_ , it’s my real name,” he said miserably, his voice tiny as a mouse’s squeak, and afraid. “I'm still _me._ My feelings are still _real_ , Stephen, and.. and I...”

“Look, you… you need to go. _Now_.” Stephen took his own phone from his pocket, hands shaking. “I’ll get you a cab, all right? But as soon as it shows up, you need to _leave_ , Nate.”

His eyes fell shut in defeat. “...okay.”

Nate moved silently through the room, picking up bits of clothing, his phone, and whatever else of his was strewn about while Stephen was scheduling the cab to pick him up.

When it was done, Stephen stood there, numb, against the back wall of the living room. Nate was by the door now, sitting cross-legged on the floor and facing the wall like a child in time-out, his coat and scarf already on. He hadn't yet put on his gloves – the ones Stephen had given him on Thanksgiving – but was fidgeting with them in his lap instead, rubbing his thumbs over the leather like they were a comfort blanket.

It took a full ten minutes for the cab to arrive, pinging Stephen's phone to alert him when it did. In all that time, neither of them said a word. It was silent enough that the ping made them both jump.

“Cab’s outside,” Stephen said in a clipped voice. Nate just nodded in response, and pushed himself up off the floor. He paused with his hand on the door, looking back at Stephen with a guarded, blank look on his face.

“I _am_ sorry, Stephen,” he said, hardly above a whisper, but in the stark silence it was plenty loud enough.

Stephen’s voice, on the other hand, was loud and cold.

“Goodbye, Nate.”

Nate flinched at the words, and in that moment, looked like a kicked puppy. But then he turned his back and was out the door and gone in an instant, without a word, without a sound beyond the soft click of the door closing behind him.

When he was gone, Stephen threw his phone across the room. It didn't break, but his anger did. He crumpled back against the wall, sliding down toward the floor. He was already crying by the time he hit the carpet – had become a hiccuping, sobbing wreck of a man in seconds – and he absolutely hated himself for it.

* * *

It was almost midnight when the cab dropped him off at Mello's building. It was the only place he could think to go. Normally he would want to be alone when he was upset, but somehow, this time, he hated the idea. His own apartment would be empty, and the living room was dominated by his computer setup, which would only remind him of…

He hit the intercom button for Mello's apartment, holding his coat closed against the chill wind. The building’s outer doors were kept locked this late at night. He was suddenly grateful to Mello’s landlord for maintaining the long-outdated intercom system instead of simply ripping it out when they put in the newer keycard security locks. Normally he’d just text or call Mello to let him up, but his phone had caused all this trouble. It sat as a dead weight in his pocket, and something in the back of his mind told him to leave it there, because he might just decide to smash it on the sidewalk if it found its way into his hand. It took a minute, but eventually Mello's voice came crackling over the speaker.

“Who the fuck—”

“Buzz me in, Mello,” Near cut him off.

“..Near? What.. Yeah, yeah, man, I’m on it,” Mello said, sounding confused and half-asleep. More likely drunk. It didn't matter. Near would take his company even in his worst drunken moods right now.

The door buzzed and Near pushed through it. He bypassed the elevator and ran up the two flights of emergency stairs instead, as fast as his short legs could carry him. He couldn’t handle the waiting and standing still any longer. He’d never been athletic, though. His lungs and legs were burning by the time he reached Mello's door. He banged on it and panted hard while he waited for Mello to open up.

“How the hell did you get up here that fast?” Mello asked the second the door was open, before he’d really gotten much of a look at Near. Once he did, his face fell and he opened the door wide, admitting him without another word.

Near all but collapsed against the wall once he was inside. He halfheartedly tugged the scarf away from his throat so he could breathe. Mello seemed to know, as always, at least what was wrong in that particular moment. Once the door was shut behind them, Mello swept his hands aside and pulled the scarf off for him, then stripped his coat away too and hung it up next to his motorcycle jacket on the opposite wall. He waited for Near’s breathing to even out, then cradled his face in both hands and made him look him in the eye.

“Talk to me, hon. What happened?”

Near wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ talk, not just then. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head miserably, trying to keep himself together.

Mello's hands fell to his shoulders. He could practically feel the air turn cold with Mello's shifting moods. He spoke low in his throat, like a lion growling out a warning.

“Did that rat bastard hurt you? I swear to God, I’ll make him wish he was never born, Near.”

“What’s going on? Is he okay?”

Near opened his eyes to find Matt staring at them cautiously from the doorway of Mello's bedroom.

“I don't know yet,” Mello told him.

Matt was only half-dressed; he pulled on a shirt as he walked over to them.

“I’ll just, uh.. Should I make coffee or something?” he asked, looking Near over and frowning.

“He likes tea,” Mello said quietly. He kept his eyes on Near’s face, not sparing Matt a second glance. “Up in the cabinet, behind the coffee filters. Earl grey.”

Matt looked conflicted, but nodded. “All right, I'm on it.”

Mello pulled Near off the wall, bracing him against his chest and walking him over to the couch. He sat him down with his arm still around his shoulders. Near only then noticed that Mello's hair was a wild mess, his shirt wrinkled – and too loose to actually be _his_ shirt. It had a Pikachu emblazoned on the front, too. He could only assume it was one of Matt's. Realizing that, he found his voice again.

“I'm sorry, I’m interrupting… I didn't consider that Matt would be here..,” he babbled pathetically. Mello just pulled him closer and eased Near’s head into the crook of his neck.

“Shush, don’t worry about that,” Mello spoke soft against his hair. “Are you okay? I mean obviously _not,_ but...”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Okay, that’s a good start.” Mello ran long fingers through his hair. “You guys were headed back to Stephen's place after we left the bowling alley, right? So it’s gotta be about him, yeah?”

Near couldn't bring himself to put it into words. He found himself staring at a half-full bottle of rum that sat on the coffee table in front of him. Mello’s electric water kettle boiled loud in the kitchen. The kettle clicked off, and it seemed to snap his resolve into place. Near extricated himself from Mello's arms, scooted to the edge of the couch, and snatched the rum. He fidgeted with the bottle a moment – an intricate thing shaped like a squid, with tentacles for handles. He looked back at Mello. His eyes had widened with surprise, but he waved silent permission at him. As Matt returned with a tray of coffee and tea, Near unscrewed the lid and took a generous pull of the dark rum straight from its squid bottle. He made a scrunchy face at the taste of it, like he always did on the rare occasions he drank something straight like that, but unlike always, Mello didn’t snicker and tease him for it.

He put the bottle down and looked at them. Both wore evident concern on their faces, though Mello's was tempered with the desire to murder whoever was the cause of the trouble. Matt settled onto the arm of the couch, leaning onto Mello just a bit, possessively, like he was reclaiming his territory after Near had tread upon it.

Manic laughter came tumbling out of his chest at the thought. He’d ruined his own relationship, now here he was to intrude upon theirs.

“Stephen,” he said at last, letting the miserable laughter carry him though. “He _knows_. Stephen knows everything.”

Mello was on the edge of the couch beside him in an instant, making Matt scramble to keep his balance. Near cracked up at that, too. He was too far gone to help it.

“ _Everything?”_ Mello breathed.

“Everything,” Near said, taking another swig of rum before he put the lid back on. “Everything that matters, anyway.”

He let himself slide off the couch, his butt hitting the carpet hard. He reached for the mug of tea amongst the coffees that Mello and Matt still hadn’t touched, and held the steaming thing in his hands to warm them up.

“And then he kicked me out,” Near mumbled over the rim of the mug, struggling to keep his voice from breaking.

“...shit,” was all Mello could say.

“I’ll grab some more booze,” Matt said, heading back to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t make an omelette without breaking some hearts… :(


	16. Pavement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop, didn’t mean to leave things hanging at that juncture… some minor life things happened, lol. Back to our sort-of-scheduled indulgences now… :P

“Stephen?”

He stopped dead, hand frozen on the handle of his suitcase. He peeled his fingers away from it slowly, letting it fall on its side in his car trunk, next to a duffel bag stuffed full. Stephen only spared him a quick glance over his shoulder. It had been three days since they'd seen each other – since everything fell apart – and it hurt just to look at him. Stephen pointedly averted his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here, Nate? Or should I just start calling you Near?” he said spitefully.

“You.. you weren't answering my calls, so...”

“Because I don't want to hear your voice right now,” he snapped. He grabbed another bag from the asphalt at his feet and tossed it carelessly into the car trunk.

“...as much as I don't want to see your face,” he muttered, an afterthought spoken more to his luggage than to Nate.

“I just… I wanted to try to apologize again, and maybe.. maybe try to explain things better.” Nate’s voice was so tiny it was almost lost to the wind, but his ears zeroed in on it. He couldn't ignore _that_ voice, no matter how hard he tried.

“You’ve said enough. I don't want to hear it anymore,” Stephen said coldly.

“Stephen, please, just—”

“No.”

Stephen finished packing the bags in silence, little flurries of snow drifting down and swirling around him as he moved. He still didn't look in Nate’s direction. He refused to. He wasn't even sure that he was still standing there until he spoke again, in that damned voice that somehow cut through everything, no matter how soft it spoke.

“Where are you going?”

Stephen slammed the trunk shut, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Nate flinch at the noise. His stupid heart tried to sympathize. He squashed it down and tried to focus on staying mad, because anger was the only thing holding him together.

_I shouldn't even tell him. I should just leave and let him suffer._

He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath of the cold dry air, and steeled himself to do yet another thing he’d probably regret.

“I'm going home for Christmas,” he finally answered. “I convinced my boss to let me start my vacation a few days early, to maybe… to maybe let me clear my head a bit. I’ll be back before New Year’s, probably.”

“Oh.”

He heard Nate take a cautious step forward, shoes crunching on some icy detritus on the pavement. He spoke fast and desperate then, as if anticipating being cut off before he could get the words out.

“I really am sorry, Stephen, for everything. I know I can’t justify everything I did, but _no_ _ne_ of it was done with the intent to hurt you, I swear it, I—”

“I’ve got a plane to catch, Nate,” Stephen said firmly, opening the driver side door.

 _He expected to be interrupted, right? Wouldn_ _’t want to disappoint him_ _,_ he thought bitterly.

“Right, of course, I… I’m sorry.” Nate lost what little ground he’d gained, falling a couple of steps backward as if to give the car extra room to pull out, but it just seemed like a surrender, a retreat. It was pathetic enough to make Stephen's foolish heart hurt for him, despite everything.

“I just… I need some time, some _space_ , to think, Nate. We can… we can talk when I get back to town, okay?” Stephen said, his voice shakier and softer than a moment ago. He gripped the car door hard, as if physically grounding himself could somehow fix that shakiness.

 _Idiot, why are you letting him think he’s still got a chance?_ , he berated himself. _Why the hell do you still want to give him one? He doesn’t deserve it._

“Okay,” Nate said softly.

Stephen got in the car without another word, without a goodbye. He did his best not to stare at Nate’s reflection in the rear-view mirror as he pulled out of the parking space. He tried not to notice the way he just _stood_ there, watching Stephen’s car as he left the lot, while the snow grew heavier around him.

All the way to the airport, he tried to get that image out of his head – of Nate standing there, staring after him, left all alone and shivering in the snowy parking lot.

By the time his plane landed in New York, hours later, he still hadn’t managed to shake it.

* * *

“He just _left?”_ Mello scoffed. “Just like that? Shit, man, that’s fuckin’ cold.”

“He said he needed time to think, and I guess I can't blame him for that,” Near said miserably, hugging his knees to his chest. “But he also said that he didn’t want to see my face, or hear my voice…”

“Honey, honey..,” Mello sighed sympathetically. He sat down beside him on the zebra couch, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I bet he didn't really mean that. He’s freaked out still, ya know? He’ll come around.”

“He got on a goddamn _airplane_ just to get away from me, Mello. I think he damn well fucking did _mean_ it,” Near snapped, but he rolled into the hug anyway and hid his face in the crook of Mello's neck. When he continued, his voice was already drained of its spite and was right back to being plaintive and sad. “It’s not as if he’s living here permanently anyway. He moves every couple of months. What if he decides never to come back? What if he requests that his job transfer him somewhere else right away, just so he never has to see me again?”

He felt Mello tense up and shift on the couch. He sat up, pushing Near up a bit as well, and drew his face up by a guiding hand on his cheek.

“You know what? Fuck that shit,” Mello spat. “You can’t let him leave you like that, Near. _I_ won’t let the motherfucker leave you like that. Where the hell’s he gone off to, anyway?”

“He said he was going home for Christmas.”

“So where’s home?”

“That’s… somewhere in New York state, as far as I know. What does it matter?”

“Because if _he_ won’t face this thing head on, then _you’re_ gonna have to, Near.” Mello forced Near to look him in the eye then. “We’re gonna have to get your ass to New York so you can confront him. Just show the fuck up at grandma’s house or wherever and set things right. A big impulsive romantic gesture, just like in the movies. _That’s_ what you need to win him back.”

Near sat back a moment, stuttering with surprise at the suggestion. “I.. I can’t just… It’s halfway across the country, Mello...”

“So? We’ll make a road trip out of it. We hit it hard and it’s a two or three day drive at most. We know he’s not going anywhere in all that time, right? You’ll have plenty of time to catch him before Christmas and turn this whole mess into a fuckin’ Hallmark movie, no problem.”

“Mello...”

The blond deployed his best glare. “Near, come _on_. You said it yourself, there’s a chance he won’t _be_ coming back to talk things out after Christmas. And the longer he’s out there, _away_ from you, the longer he’s got to stew in his own version of events, and tell his friends and family back home about how you did him wrong, and have them all back him up and say he should dump your ass... Is _that_ what you want to happen?”

Near frowned, looking down at his knees again. “That’s not necessarily true, he… maybe he’ll just miss me. Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, isn’t it?”

“Pfft, like you can afford to count on some crock of shit like that. He might miss you, yeah, but he might also realize he’s fine without you. He’s been avoiding you for days already. It’s gonna be more than a week before he _theoretically_ comes back to town to talk it out… And in all that time, he might decide he’s better off alone, at least if you’re not around to plead your case. You can’t just sit on this ‘til New Year’s and hope for the best, Near. We need to get you out there. We need to get you to him.”

“Even if I did go, he’d probably turn me away at the door regardless..,” Near mumbled hopelessly.

Mello grabbed his shoulders, making Near look him in the eyes again, and spoke with a solemn gravity.

“Near, you love this guy, don’t you?”

Near’s lip quivered. His answer was hardly more than a pathetic whimper. “I.. _yes_ , but...”

“Then we’re _going_ ,” Mello insisted, “and you’re gonna _tell_ him exactly how you feel. Then you’re gonna demand that he spills the feels too. And if things still don't work out, to hell with it, at least you can say you tried. I’m not gonna sit back and watch you mope all through Christmas. And I’m sure as hell not gonna let you make the same kind of stupid fuckin’ mistake I did.”

Near cocked his head to the side, blinking. “What mistake..?”

Mello just shook his head, and suddenly was unwilling to look him in the eye anymore.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s done. It’s dead. But this? This shit isn’t done yet, Near. This still has a chance. You have to take it,” he said, still insistent, but far quieter about it.

“I’ll drive.”

They both looked up to find Matt standing in the open doorway. His keys were dangling from the lock, from what must have been his own copy of Mello's apartment key.

“Matt, what..?” Mello mumbled.

“I overheard enough to get the gist of it, I think,” Matt said solemnly, shutting the door. He pulled off his goggles and abandoned them on the little table by the door. He approached the couch with purpose in his eyes. “And I agree with Mello. I think this is something you have to do, Near.”

“It’s… it’s all the way in New York, Matt..,” Near said. He probably hadn't overheard that part.

“Okay, and?” Matt shrugged. “I said I’d drive, didn’t I? It’s not impossible. Hell, I’ve driven way farther for way less legit reasons. I’m in.”

“Matt..,” Mello breathed, and stood from the couch to face him. The two of them just looked at each other for a moment, like they were frozen in time, before Mello wrapped his arms around Matt's shoulders and hugged him close. Matt hugged his waist, and over Mello's shoulder Near could see a little smile grow upon his face.

“Hey, it’s important, right? Not like I’d say no,” Matt said with warmth in his voice. “Besides, I gotta admit, I am a sucker for a good love story. No way I’m missing out on a real live one, especially one my baby’s invested in…” He gave Mello a visible squeeze, then winked at Near over Mello's shoulder. “...and where it’s my friend’s heart on the line.”

Near stood up, white eyebrows knitted with concern.

“You’re really sure you’re up for a spontaneous road trip? I know it’s a lot to ask...”

Matt grinned at that, loosening his hold on Mello so he could pull Near into their hug too.

“Hell, little dude, I’ve got a sweet car for a _reason_ , don’t I? And what are friends for, if not crazy shit like this?”

“You do make a compelling argument.” Near smiled just a little, despite everything.

“So it’s agreed?” Mello said triumphantly, eyes wild and glittering.

Near nodded. “I suppose it is, yes.”

“Kick ass!” Mello exclaimed, bouncing up and down and shaking them both in his excitement. “Pack your bags, bitches, we’re headed to fuckin’ New York!”


	17. Gossip

The door opened upon the first truly happy face Stephen had seen in days.

“Stephen!” squealed the grinning woman in the doorway, before launching herself forward to attack him with a smothering hug, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Ack, Em, air, _air!”_ he croaked dramatically. She backed off, but gave his arm a playful punch.

“Brat,” she laughed. “Why didn't you say you were coming in early?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Surprise, I guess.”

Emily rolled her eyes to the sky and flipped a bit of short black hair out of her face. She picked up one of the suitcases Stephen had set next to the door.

“Well, Mama will be thrilled, but don't expect to be overfed like usual. We were expecting to have the house to ourselves for another couple of days, Mr. Surprise Guest.”

“I don't care, I’m just happy to be home,” he said with a weary sigh. He told himself the weariness was mostly from the flight.

Emily paused, quirking up a manicured eyebrow suspiciously. She _would_ catch onto that.

“Come on, Em, it’s freaking cold out here and your big butt is blocking the door,” he teased, grabbing his other bags.

“My butt is perfect, thank you very much. Just ask Anthony when he gets here, _he_ appreciates it.”

“You know, I think I’d rather _not_ ask,” Stephen decided, rolling his eyes.

“Hmph. Probably wouldn't hurt _you_ to do some butt-shaping yoga, from the looks of you.”

“Shut up.”

“Mama! Stephen's here!” Emily called out.

A short, older woman came rushing out of the kitchen excitedly, wiping her hands on her apron.

“My baby boy is here! And you’re early!” she gushed joyfully, throwing her arms around Stephen before he’d had a chance to set his luggage down.

“Surprise!” he chuckled helplessly. Emily quietly took the bags from him so he could properly return his mother’s hug. “My boss let me off early, so, here I am.”

“That was so nice of him!” his mother exclaimed, letting him go so she could hold him at arms’ length and get a good look at his face. “You should write him a nice thank-you card for that. Courtesy never goes out of style, you know.”

“I’ll do that, Ma,” he promised, breaking away so he could shed off his coat and scarf and hang them up on the coat rack by the door. He stowed his gloves away in his coat pockets. “So Em, why are you here by yourself? Where’s Anthony and Trace?”

She rolled her eyes, sighing. “Well, we _were_ all gonna come up together, but then Anthony got stuck in DC an extra day over some classified emergency or other, and on top of that, Trace’s dentist appointment got rescheduled… It’s a whole mess. But somebody had to come up and help Mama get the house set up for Christmas, right? So here I am – I took a red eye and just got here early this morning.”

“Ah, that’s too bad, but they’re still coming, right?”

“Yeah, they’re coming up on the 23rd, if all goes to plan. At least Anthony’s not stuck working over Christmas this year, knock on wood... Trace isn’t taking it too hard, though. I think he’s got a little crush on the babysitter, so he doesn’t mind getting to grandma’s late,” she laughed.

“You look so _cold_ , my little Stevie,” his mother said, standing on tiptoe to pat his cheek. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee right away. Oh, and we have some soup leftover from our lunch, I can heat some up for you!”

“I'm fine, Ma, really.”

“Well, in that case,” Emily said with a smirk, “you can come help me get the guest rooms ready. I just finished putting the last of the old sheets in the wash, so _you_ are _just_ in time to help me put clean ones on all the beds.”

“Well that just sounds… _super_ fun, Em.”

Emily rolled her eyes high, hands on her hips.

“Still _such_ a brat,” she huffed.

“I’ll make the coffee anyway,” their mother whispered at him with a wink, heading back toward the kitchen.

Emily hauled Stephen up the first few stairs by his sleeve before he shook her hand off and followed of his own free will. They headed for Emily's old room first. Stephen hadn't so much as gotten a sheet unfolded before he heard the door click shut behind him.

“Okay, baby bro, spill,” she said in a low voice. “Why are you _really_ here so early? You didn't get yourself fired or something, did you?”

“What? No, it’s nothing like that,” Stephen scoffed. He distracted himself with shaking out the folds of the fitted sheet.

“Okay, so what is it ‘like,’ then?”

“It’s… personal, okay? So can we just drop it?”

“Oh _,_ now I get it...”

“Now you get _what_? And are you even gonna help with this?” Stephen tossed a pillowcase at her. She caught it, and came up beside him with a smirk on her face to grab a naked pillow for it.

“I’m betting on a bad breakup. Am I close?”

Stephen sighed heavily. “I _really_ don't want to talk about it, Em.”

Emily dropped the pillow on the bed, and then dropped herself onto the mattress to sit in front of him. She looked up at his face thoughtfully.

“Oh damn, it really _was_ a bad one, wasn’t it?”

“You realize it’s kind of hard to put sheets on the bed with you sitting on it, right?”

“Seriously, Stephen, I’m not a bitchy teenager anymore. I’m not looking for gossip here. I just want to know that my baby brother’s all right.”

“Yeah, well, I’m _not._ Are you happy now?”

For lack of other options, Stephen abandoned the half-spread bedsheet in favor of grabbing another pillow and shoving it into a fresh pillowcase. Emily sighed and stood up from the bed, spreading her arms out.

“All right, come here.”

Stephen scowled. “I don't need a hug, Em.”

She quirked up a knowing eyebrow at him. “Sweetie, just because I don't get to see you that often anymore doesn’t mean I don't still know how you operate. And _you_ need hugs. Good day, bad day, whatever, you need hugs. You always have.”

“Have _not,_ ” he maintained, pouting.

“Uh huh. So we’re doing this the hard way, I see.”

With no more warning than that, Emily crashed against his back and trapped his arms in a tight hug. Stephen dropped the pillow, his eyes suddenly welling up. He halfheartedly struggled his way out of the hug and dropped down heavily onto the mattress, staring down at the faded pink carpet. Emily sat down gingerly beside him, and put a supportive arm around his shoulders.

“You sure you don't want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

Stephen scrubbed a hand over his face, considering it.

“Look, Em, it… it’s not _just_ that it’s a personal thing to me, it’s kind of… it’s _bigger_ than that. Something people could get into serious trouble for if word got out.”

“Didn't I pretty much already say that I wouldn’t gossip to anybody?” she chuckled warmly. “Really, I won’t tell Mama _or_ Anthony. Whatever it is, I’ll consider it a sacred sibling secret. And besides, how am I supposed to give you my famous big sister advice if I don't know the situation, huh?”

Stephen took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “You swear you won't say _one_ _word_ to _anyone_ about this?”

“I swear it.”

He took one more sighing breath, steeling himself. She wasn’t one to judge, he knew, but the whole thing was so _weird_ that just trying to think of how to put it into words made him anxious.

“Okay, here goes nothing, I guess,” Stephen said, keeping a wary eye on the door. “So, I met this guy a couple of months ago...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy the little OC family appears! :D
> 
> They’re sort of cannibalized from a different story that got scrapped ages ago, but they stuck in my head and apparently decided that this fic was where they’d make their next appearance. :P
> 
> Short one today… longer one next time. :)


	18. Moment of truth.

“You sure this is it?” Matt asked, peeking out the car window at the house across the street: an old two-story with a wide covered porch.

“Not really, but it is the home address listed in his IncredAI registration file,” Near said. “And he did tell me once that he was from a small town in New York. It fits.”

“Moment of truth, then,” Mello said, reaching around from the front passenger seat to grasp Near’s hand. “If you need some back-up, you know...”

“No, I.. I have to do this myself.”

Mello smiled at him, trying to look confident as he let go of Near’s hand, but his worry shone through. Mello never had been very good at hiding things like that.

“Good luck, creampuff,” he said fondly.

“He doesn’t need luck,” Matt said, shooting him a warm grin over his shoulder. “Love always wins the day, don’t you know that?”

Near tried to smile, but he wasn't so sure about the truth of that right now.

Matt hit a button, making all the car doors unlock with a loud click. Near took a deep breath before opening his door. Where he was going was a lot scarier than the back seat of Matt's car, even with its barely-legal seatbelt configuration. He made it outside, and even managed to shut the car door, before he got stuck just staring at the house, frozen beside the car until Matt rolled his window down.

“You can do it, little guy,” Matt told him softly.

“We’ll be right here if you need us, Near,” Mello chimed in, leaning over Matt to talk out the window.

“I don't know if that’s such a good idea, Mels...”

“But I wanna see what _happens!”_ Mello whined. Matt rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, exactly, and I doubt Near wants us watching.” Matt stuck his head out the window, leaning on an elbow to talk to Near. “Look, man, I spotted a convenience store around the corner on the way here. We’ll just go hang around there for a while. Call us if you need a rescue, okay?”

Near nodded. “Thank you, Matt.”

Matt winked and shot a finger gun at him. “You got this, white tiger.”

“Dork,” he heard Mello teasing as he finally started walking.

Near was almost thankful for all the stairs it took to get to the door – icy concrete stairs up the walkway from the street, slippery wooden stairs up to the porch. The stairs slowed things down, made him focus on his footing so he wouldn’t slip and fall. He had to work at breathing, too; the cold air stung the inside of his mouth as he huffed at it. It delayed the inevitably unpleasant conversation he was in for.

He rang the doorbell, already shivering. Walking had kept the cold from settling over him, but now, standing still, he felt the loss of the artificial heat of Matt's car interior more sharply.

He heard the car’s engine roar behind him and speed away. He wished he was still inside it.

A pretty woman answered the door. She had pixie-cut black hair and eyes a lot like Stephen's, and Near couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. His stomach was twisting in knots now, wouldn’t seeing Stephen just make it worse?

“Can I help you?” she asked, smirking and seeming amused at his apparent inability to speak.

“I.. I’m sorry to bother you, but… is this the Gevanni household?”

“It is.” She leaned her hip upon the door frame. “You’re looking for someone in particular, I presume?”

Near gulped down a lump of anxiety, but forced himself to look her in the eye when he answered.

“Yes, I am. Is Stephen here, please?”

She closed the door behind her slightly, seeming to want to hide their conversation from any others inside the house. Worry started to rise from his stomach again, and perhaps she knew it, because immediately she put on a warm smile.

“You’re Nate, aren’t you?” she asked softly.

His hand twitched, wanting to pull at his hair to soothe his nerves, but he resisted it. He felt ashamed to admit his own identity, so he only nodded to affirm it.

“I don't know what he’s told you about me, about…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, deciding to start over. “I don't want to cause any trouble, and I know he won’t want to see me, but I only want to talk to him, I.. I _have to_ talk to him. Please.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said gently. “Just, um...”

She stepped out of the doorway, looking around the porch for a moment before nudging at his shoulder, moving him to stand against the house, between the door and window.

“Just wait right there for a minute, okay? I have an idea,” she said, a wicked look in her eye. Before he had a chance to question it, she had disappeared back inside the house.

* * *

“Stephen!” Emily called out, rushing through the house.

“What, what?” he answered, coming down the stairs.

“UPS just dropped off a huge package outside. I signed for it but I can barely move the flippin’ thing. Can you come help?”

“Yeah, of course,” Stephen said. He grabbed his coat and followed her to the front door. When they reached it, she opened the door and shoved him out, sending him stumbling onto the porch.

“Em, what the hell?!” he shouted, regaining his footing. He blinked around at the empty porch. “Where’s the—?”

He stopped dead, staring. There, hidden behind the door, was Nate.

“Well, you’re already outside, might as well hear him out, right?” Emily said, shutting the door and leaving the two of them alone on the porch.

For a minute, all he could do was stare at him. Nate mostly kept his eyes on the blue painted wood floor of the porch, hands in his coat pockets, shifting his feet now and then.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stephen finally asked, coldly.

He winced at that. “I wanted to.. to try to make things right, if I can, and… I needed to see you, Stephen.”

“How did you even find my house, Nate?” Stephen demanded. “Have you got a tracker on my phone too, now? Are you _stalking_ me?”

“ _No_ , this was...” Nate took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, like he expected to take a beating for his answer. “This was the address you registered with IncredAI. I’ve had access to it since day one.”

“Well _that’s_ comforting,” Stephen grumbled sarcastically.

Nate stood his ground then, his eyes open again, and defiant. “I’m saying that I _didn’t_ go snooping around to find where you’d gone. I didn’t know _what_ this address was – it might have just been one of your old apartments for all I knew, but it was the only lead I had to go on. I took a _chance_ on it, hoping I would find you, that’s all.”

“You could have looked up the address and found out that a Gevanni owns the place in ten seconds flat. Am I supposed to be impressed that you supposedly didn’t? Am I supposed to _believe_ you didn't?”

Nate balled up little white fists at his sides, scowling. “If you’d just turned on the damn location services in the first place, like a _normal_ person, we wouldn’t be in this mess, you know! I never would have gotten you as a client, and we probably never would have...”

His anger seemed to die in his throat, just as suddenly as it had come. He deflated in an instant, shoulders slumping, face falling into guarded neutrality.

“I’m sorry. It was Mello's idea to come. I should have known it wouldn’t do any good.”

Stephen sighed heavily. “Mello, huh? So he knows about all this too?”

Nate nodded solemnly, wrenching his gaze from the ground to look him in the eye. “Yes. Matt, too. They’re both agents, like me.”

Stephen propped himself against a railing post, trying his best to process things without completely flying off the handle. It hurt, though, knowing two other people were in on this humiliating situation. He felt like such an idiot.

“So what, does IncredAI just recruit kids straight from the institutes when they hit 18?”

The question was unfair, cruel even. He knew it the second it was out of his mouth, but he was on edge and lashing out where he could.

“Of _course_ not, we just…” Nate shifted his feet, staring at the ground again. “We seem to gravitate toward work like this. Anonymous, faceless work. Detached from the outside world, as it were. There were several of us in the agent training class when I was hired in.”

Feeling guilty for having asked, and angry at himself for feeling guilty about _anything_ in this situation, Stephen tried to get them back on track.

“So is that why Mello always gets that weird look on his face when he says your name – when he’s been drinking, in particular? Because he knew I was a client of yours, and he was trying not to expose you?”

Nate nodded. “Mello and I, we met in the training class. ‘Mello’ is his AI name, but he started using it as a nickname for himself in real life too. And I… I’ve never felt any connection to my real name. It was just something the institute slapped me with, because when my birth mother dumped me there, I didn't have a name...”

“I remember,” Stephen said quietly.

Nate suddenly looked embarrassed, like he hadn’t remembered telling him about that, but he pressed on.

“...right. So, once I chose my AI name, I followed Mello’s example and started calling myself by it. Since I met you, Mello's had to work at remembering to call me Nate instead of Near around you.”

Stephen sighed, resisting his sympathetic inclinations. He didn't want to start sympathizing now, not when he couldn’t be totally sure it wasn’t manipulation. He didn't _think_ it was, at this point, but he’d been too naive to tell before, after all.

“So, should I start calling you Near too, then?”

He flinched, and started tugging at a curl of white hair. “You don’t have to do that. I understand how strange it would seem.”

“But that’s the name you identify with, if I’m understanding you correctly?”

“I… Yes, I do. It’s the only name that’s ever felt like it was really _mine_. But that probably doesn’t make much sense to you...”

He stared at him for a minute, at his nervous fidgeting. When he thought of Near, the fake AI version of Near, he thought of confidence, of wit. Nate displayed that too, at times, but not to the same degree, and not in quite the same ways.

“You’re different, when you’re Near,” he said softly, unsure he should even voice the thought. “The _AI_ Near, I mean. You don’t talk to me the same way then as you do in person. So which one is real? How do I know who it is I’m really talking to?”

Nate – _Near_ – met his eye for a moment, a shaky hint of a smile making it onto his face.

“It’s just _me_ , Stephen. It’s _all_ me. It’s just that it’s easier being Near. It’s easier to talk to people if I’m.. if I’m not a person. If they don't _see_ me as a person. If they only know of me as a voice and a code name.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shivering and hugging his coat tighter around himself. “Mello says I should have been born a robot instead of a human. It’s a joke, of course, but I tend to agree with him.”

Stephen sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I guess I kind of get that. Talking to a ‘robot’ is easier than talking to people sometimes, for me...”

“Yes, I know,” Near said. Stephen scowled.

“Yeah, you sure as hell do, don’t you?” he said harshly.

Near flinched and retreated back a step. A frozen wind had begun whipping around the house, pelting them with snow flurries despite the roof over their heads. When Near spoke again, his soft voice was almost lost to it.

“I'm sorry, I only meant… I _liked_ being a robot for you to talk to, Stephen. I liked just _talking_ to you. I liked _you_ , long b-before we ever met in p-person.” He laughed – an awkward, sad, quivering sort of laugh, his teeth rattling as it passed. “I lost s-so much s-sleep, just to stay up and t-talk to you, and I didn’t _care_ , because I was happy t-to. And you probably won’t even b-believe me, b-but I… I...”

Stephen wanted to be mad. He really did.

But it was impossible not to notice that Near was shivering now – _really_ shivering, his jaw waggling of its own volition when he wasn’t speaking and making him stutter when he was. His whole body was wracked by trembling waves that seemed to radiate from his feet to his head, like he was weathering earthquakes nobody else could feel.

“You don't even have your gloves on,” Stephen said, interrupting him. “It’s the worst cold snap of the season so far, and you just have that ratty old coat, and no hat, no scarf, or anything.”

Near averted his eyes, though Stephen caught the embarrassment in them. “It w-wasn’t exactly a w-well planned trip. I didn't think to l-look into what the w-weather would be like up h-here.”

_And you didn't have me to fuss over the details for you,_ he realized. _You didn't have me to remind you to take care of yourself._

He hated how much that thought stung.

Stephen grabbed one of Near’s icy cold hands. “Come on, let’s get you inside so you can warm up.”

“That’s.. th-that’s okay. I’m o-k-kay,” Near said, his voice shaking as much as the rest of him. Stephen tugged him toward the door.

“Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m willing to stand here and watch you freeze to death, Near.”

He opened the door, grateful Emily hadn’t actually locked him out, and guided Near inside. They were hardly in the door before Emily appeared with an excited, hopeful look on her face. Stephen held up a hand and shook his head to stop whatever assumptions she was making.

“It’s freezing out. We only came in so he could warm up, Em,” Stephen said tersely. “Just… go help Ma in the kitchen or something, will you?”

She frowned, looking conflicted, but headed toward the kitchen anyway. “All right, fine, I hear ya. We’ll keep out of your way.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

Stephen steered Near toward the fireplace. He pulled his coat off for him, hanging it nearby so the fire could dry the icy remnants of snowflakes from it. Near sat in the floor in front of the fire, still shivering as he reached his frozen hands close to warm them. Stephen hung his own coat and joined him on the floor, but after a minute of awkward silence he was itching to get back on his feet again.

“Look, uh… I can go and make you some hot tea or something real quick, if that would help.”

Near shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to be any more of a bother than I already am.”

“It wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point, would it?” Stephen said, sighing. Near seemed to shy away at that comment, hugging his knees to his chest and hanging his head low, low enough that Stephen could hardly see his face through the mess of snow-dampened hair.

“I'm sorry, Stephen. I know that I don't belong here, I… I should never have come. I’m sorry...”

“Near, why _did_ you come all the way out here? I mean, it’s crazy, isn’t it? You could have just _called_ or something...”

Near lifted his head, lifted his huge dark eyes to meet Stephen's. There was something fearful in them.

“Because I love you, Stephen. That’s why I came.”

Stephen's jaw opened and shut, but nothing came out. The silence was only broken by the crackling of logs in the fire.

When Stephen still didn’t respond, Near lowered his eyes and turned away to stare at the fire. He thrust his hands toward it again, his face blank and unreadable.

“I’ll just… I’ll go and make that tea now,” Stephen mumbled pathetically, starting to push himself up off the floor.

“How about some nice hot cocoa instead?” came a cheery suggestion from Emily, who suddenly appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray. She came over to them with a bounce in her step and sat the tray between them; it held two steaming hot mugs of cocoa and a little bowl full of marshmallows.

“Uh, thanks, Em,” Stephen said, awkwardly re-situating himself on the floor.

“Thank you,” Near told her in a tiny voice, hardly audible over the softly crackling fire.

“It’s no problem, really,” Emily assured him, and bounced off again toward the kitchen. She stopped halfway and caught Stephen's eye, questioning him silently. He waved dismissively at her, signaling her to leave. He was grateful when she did.

He was grateful for the marshmallows too; they gave him a decent excuse to do something with his hands, to keep his attention on something else. He plopped them into his mug one at a time, like dropping stones in a pond.

Near didn't touch the other mug until Stephen had taken his up for a drink – until Stephen’s hands were far from the tray. He didn't bother to put any marshmallows in his, just picked up the mug slowly, carefully, in both hands. Even with the added stability, though, Stephen noticed the mug tremble, a drip of cocoa escaping down the side before the mug had even made it to his mouth.

“Near?”

Just saying his name made him jolt slightly, and Stephen had to admit, it hurt to see Near react that way to him. Stephen put down his own cocoa and moved the tray aside so he could scoot closer along the floor.

“Are your hands okay? They’re shaking...”

Near sipped at the drink, as if to prove he could do so, and then moved to put the mug on the floor. It still shook, so Stephen gently took it from him instead. Near’s fingers still felt chilled when he brushed against them.

“I'm fine. My fingers... They just get numb sometimes. It’ll go away after a while.” His voice was hushed – _ashamed,_ or so Stephen thought – and something about that hurt too.

“Shit, maybe.. Maybe going straight from freezing to fire wasn’t such a great idea,” Stephen muttered.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Near’s face – he’d lose his nerve if he did – but he grabbed both his hands between his own and held them, tried to rub warmth and feeling back into them, brought them to his mouth now and then to breathe hot air over them. Near hardly moved and didn't speak, just let him work.

It wasn't right, he thought. They’d been sitting in front of the fire a few minutes now. If anything, his hands should have been _too_ warm, making him worry if Near was giving himself heat blisters without feeling the damage, or if he’d gotten frostbite from being out in the weather.

It shouldn’t even matter to him, Stephen told himself harshly. He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his problem.

But he _did_ care. Seeing Near hurting made his heart ache. Seeing him _at all_ made his heart ache. There wasn’t much point in denying that. It was everything _else_ that he didn't know what to do with. The deception. The violation. He couldn't just shake all of that off, could he? He’d be a fool to, no matter _how_ he felt about him, even if he—

“They do feel a bit better now,” Near said softly, breaking the tumultuous quiet.

“Oh, good.” Stephen still didn't let go of Near’s hands.

He dared to look up again, into Near’s huge grey eyes. But Near seemed to be guarding himself, and Stephen couldn’t tell what was going on behind those eyes. Maybe it was better that he couldn’t.

“Look, Nate... _Near_... I...” He took a shaky breath and swallowed it. “I love you too, but… I just don’t know how to fix this.”

“Neither do I,” Near said sadly. He took his hands back and returned his gaze to the floor. “Perhaps I should go. Matt and Mello are waiting for me, so...”

“The three of you drove all this way?”

Near just nodded. He took his phone from his pants pocket and tapped out a quick message before putting it right back, as if ashamed to let Stephen see the damnable thing, but all it did was remind him of why Near had needed to hide it before.

“I’m sorry, again, for all of this,” Near said to the floor between them.

Stephen sighed. “Yeah, me too.”

“Do you think that.. you can ever forgive me, Stephen?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

The two of them sat in hollow silence, sipping their cocoa, until Near’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Are they here?” Stephen asked when he pulled the phone out to check it.

“Yes,” Near said, barely above a whisper.

Stephen stood first and shook out Near’s coat. At least it seemed to have dried in the meantime, and was good and warm from the fire. He held it up to help Near put it on, simply because it was already in his hands. Near let him, without a word, and slowly headed for the door.

“Near, wait a second.”

Stephen went to the coat rack, pulling his yellow scarf off its hook and his gloves from inside his coat pocket. He stepped close to Near and started wrapping the scarf around his neck, awkwardly trying to avoid looking at his face as he did so.

“Stephen, I can’t just _take—_ ”

“Don’t argue, okay? You need this stuff a lot more than I do. Even if these are way too big for you...”

He handed him the gloves and watched him pull them on, somehow expecting him to sneakily lay them aside and leave them in the house if he didn't witness him putting them on. Near turned toward the door again, and Stephen jumped ahead to get it for him, but wound up stopping once more.

“Look, uh… Let’s just sleep on it, and I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“...okay.” He looked up at him through messy white bangs. “We’re not leaving town right away. We planned to get a hotel for tonight, at least, so that Matt can rest up before he has to start driving again… So, if you wanted to meet in person, then...”

Stephen shifted his feet, sighing. “I’ll _call_ , Near. We’ll figure it out from there.”

“...right. Whatever you wish to do, Stephen, I’ll go along with it.”

Stephen opened the door for him. The sun had already gone down in the time they’d been talking. Near gathered his coat in front, holding it against the wind and dark as he stepped outside. He chanced one more look back as he stood on the porch, streetlights coloring his white hair a pale orange.

“Goodnight, Stephen,” he said softly, his face a cautious blank. Stephen strove to keep his face a blank as well.

“Goodnight, Near,” he said, and shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually one of my favorite scenes in the whole thing… because clearly, I am a glutton for angst. XD
> 
> ...and I was slow to edit it because perfectionism, lol.


	19. Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My streak of daily updates is so very, very broken… And I keep leaving you guys hanging at unpleasant moments... Apologies to anybody who’s been patiently waiting, woops. ^^;;;

He stood there for a minute or two, staring at the doorknob still in his hand, until he heard the roar of a car engine heading down the street and figured Near was gone.

“Stephen, what the hell? You let him _go_?” Emily hissed at him, suddenly appearing from the kitchen doorway. She herded him toward the back of the house where their mother couldn’t hear them.

“It’s not like he’s leaving town. We’re gonna talk again in the morning, it’s fine,” he grumbled as she pushed him along.

“What else is there to talk about?” she asked, once they’d reached the little alcove by the back door. “He comes all the way up here to find you, and you send him away heartbroken, and for what? So he can come back and try again tomorrow?”

Stephen frowned deeply. “He did not leave _heartbroken_.”

“You sure about that? Because that stone face of his looked like a defense mechanism if I've ever seen one.” Emily put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes uneasily. “Stephen... You two _love_ each other. You kind of neglected to mention that the other day.”

“And I’d forgotten how much you _love_ eavesdropping,” Stephen muttered.

“I hardly needed to. You obviously cared a lot about him from the way you described him to me, but I didn't realize it was quite that serious. Not until I saw him – until I saw how you two look at each other...”

“ _Fine_ , so I love him. What does it matter?” Stephen said miserably, sinking against the wall behind him.

“Sweetie, it’s the _only_ thing that matters,” she told him gently. Stephen glared down at her.

“It’s not that damn _simple._ ” He growled in frustration, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what the hell to _do,_ Em. What he did… how do I even _begin_ to forgive a thing like that? How am I supposed to ever be able to trust him again?”

Emily huffed, sounding frustrated too. She struck her ‘mom’ pose, with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.

“You think I’ve never been mad at Anthony? You think he’s never done stupid stuff that was hard to forgive? There’s not some trick to it, Stephen. You just _do_ it. You _decide_ to forgive them. You _give_ them that chance to earn your trust back. That’s all. When you’re done being mad about it, and you realize that you still love them and want them in your life, you forgive whatever dumbass thing they did and move on.”

“Em...”

“ _Stephen_ ,” she cut him off with a glare, “I've been married for over a _decade_ , you know. And as old as it makes me feel to say that out loud, it means I know what I'm talking about here.”

He sighed and shrank against the wall.

“Do you want to break up with him?” she asked, gentler than before. “I mean, he just chased you halfway across the country, so it’s pretty clear _he_ doesn’t want to, right? I'd wager you don't either, or you’d have done it before you hopped on that plane.”

“I don’t know, Em..,” he said, shaking his head.

“Well, you’d better figure it out before it’s too late.” She gripped his shoulders and made him look her in the eye. “You only have the two choices, little brother. You forgive him, or you don’t. You _break up_ with him or you _don't_. You can’t just leave him hanging forever.”

“Alright, you’ve made your point.”

She quirked a sharp, penciled eyebrow skyward. “And?”

“ _And,_ like I told him, I’m gonna sleep on it. But… I will consider your _sagely_ advice, sis.” He broke away from her grasp and headed toward the staircase.

“You damn well better,” she said, following him, “because I’m getting a present to put under the tree for him tomorrow, and if you see it sitting there on Christmas morning and he’s not here to open it, you’re gonna be really sad. Just saying.”

Stephen sighed, belabored, as he started up the stairs.

“I'm gonna go wash up for dinner,” he lied.

What he _meant_ to do was lock himself in the bathroom a while and try to get his head together, so that maybe, just _maybe_ , he wouldn’t embarrass himself by breaking down at the dinner table. He didn't want to make their mother worry about him. She’d run herself ragged trying to dote on him if she knew he was hurting, and his problems were no reason to ruin her favorite time of year.

“Whatever you say, baby bro,” Emily said solemnly. She probably knew just what he meant.

* * *

Matt and Mello were waiting outside when Near came down from the porch, Matt’s old red muscle car parked across the street in the same spot as when they’d dropped him off. Mello stood outside, leaning against the back door and huffing breath into his hands to keep warm while spits of snow fell around him. Matt, clearly the smarter of the two, sat in the driver’s seat with the engine still running.

Near approached the car wearing a blank expression, but it didn't matter. Mello saw right through it. He pushed off of the car to meet him in the middle of the empty street, concern written all over his face and even in the cautious way he stepped. He let his arms fall open.

“You look wrecked, honey,” he said gently. “What the hell happened in there?”

Near shook his head miserably. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Mello spared a glance up at the house, then wrapped an arm around Near’s shoulders and guided him into the back seat of the car. Mello didn’t go around to the front seat, but got in beside him instead. He reached around to put his seatbelt on for him while Near just sat there, feeling numb and all but catatonic. Mello didn't even bother strapping himself in, just scooted close and wrapped Near in a hug as the car began to move.

“Hey, I’m here for you, okay? You know that, right?” Mello was murmuring in his ear, holding him and petting his hair. Near could only stare out the window, fidgeting with the end of Stephen's yellow scarf through the awkward fingers of Stephen's too-big gloves.

The second Matt turned the corner – when the Gevanni house fell away and disappeared from his sight in the void of darkness and whirling snow – he broke. He began shaking, though he wasn’t cold, and grabbed onto Mello like a life preserver. He wailed his broken heart out against Mello's feathered coat collar, as loud as his tight throat would let him.

“What the hell?” Matt said, looking over his shoulder at the sudden noise. “Is he okay?”

“Just drive, Matt,” Mello told him, his voice clipped. He ran his hands up and down Near’s back, through his hair, over his arms, anywhere he could reach. “It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay, sweetheart. You just let it all out now, baby doll...”

He did. Once the tears started, he couldn't make himself stop. They kept coming until he was choking on them. He wailed and screamed out his pain until his throat was too wrecked to voice it anymore, and from there he just sobbed and shook in relative quiet the rest of the way to the hotel.

He hardly noticed the transition as Mello pulled him from the car and guided him to his room, laying him down on the bed as his crying slowed and died. Mello lay there with him a long while, holding him until he fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

He hadn't slept in days now, but that didn't seem to matter. He only managed to pass out post-cry for half an hour, though Mello tried to soothe him back to sleep. Eventually they gave up on it, when Matt came knocking at the door to see if they were all right and to ask about dinner.

Mello dragged Near along to his and Matt's room next door, where they ordered pizza and cleared out a shelf of the mini bar with some comically ridiculous shoot-’em-up action flick playing on the room’s outdated TV set.

Matt spent most of the movie tinkering with Near’s phone, somehow managing to hack the Agent Access app so it would send everything to Matt’s phone instead for the time being, so that Near would have one less thing to worry about. He couldn’t exactly fake Near’s voice, but he promised to stay on top of any requests that came in via text-to-speak. Near tried to convince him that, with his clientele, it’d probably be all autopilot requests anyway, but Matt insisted.

Near was grateful for his friends’ support, and he really did appreciate their efforts to cheer him up, but nothing made a difference. He doubted anything could have.

He left them after the movie, claiming to want to get some sleep, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He took a hot bath in an attempt to relax before crawling into the big, cold bed. It didn't matter. He was hollowed out inside. All he could do was watch the red minutes tick by on the glowing nightstand clock, waiting for morning, waiting for the phone call that would destroy whatever pieces of him were left.


	20. Sleeping on it.

It was well past midnight by the time Stephen realized that there was little point in ‘sleeping on it’ when he couldn't get to sleep for the life of him. He could blame it on the now unfamiliar mattress, or indigestion, but his gut roiled for different reasons, and his discomfort had nothing to do with the bed.

He couldn’t help thinking that Near probably wasn't asleep either.

“ _I hardly ever sleep, except when I’m here, with you,”_ he’d told him once, with a soft smile on his face. He could hear his voice, see that smile so clear in his memory, that it made him want to cry.

Near had been keeping himself guarded when they spoke that afternoon, but... he _had_ looked tired. And miserable, much as Stephen had tried to deny it.

At best, maybe he was sharing a room with the others and had Mello pestering him right now. But somehow he imagined he’d want his own room, and that meant he’d be lying lonely in the dark too. But what could Stephen do about it? He couldn’t just…

...show up unannounced, like Near had done that afternoon. Because he loved him, he’d said. Because he wanted to make things right again. Couldn't Stephen do the same? Could it really be that simple, if he’d only _let_ it?

He fumbled in the dark for his phone, and tapped out a text message.

_Mello, I know it’s late but, what hotel are you guys staying at?_

It took only a few seconds for his terse reply to show up.

_The Sheraton just off the highway. Not far. How soon can you get here?_

_15 minutes, maybe?,_ he shot back. Mello's phrasing made him wonder if something was wrong.

_Fine. Meet me in the lobby._

* * *

Mello was watching the door when Stephen arrived and jumped to attention the second the automatic doors swooshed open to admit him. He came at him like a swarm of bees, all angry black leather and chrome spikes and bright yellow hair chopped at angles sharp enough to stab with. The leather squeaked in the silent, empty hotel lobby, and when he got close enough Stephen could hear the plastic crinkle of the Hershey bar wrapper sticking out of his jacket pocket. There was a tiny liquor bottle nestled behind it that looked empty too.

“You here to make up or break up?” Mello asked point blank, his green eyes sharp and suspicious and alert, despite the alcohol he could smell on him. Stephen balked at the bluntness of the question and stumbled over his answer.

“I, uh… _Make_ up, I guess...”

“Guess my ass, you’d better _know_ ,” Mello snapped, slurring his words a little. “Cuz if you’re here to do somethin’ that’s gonna hurt him, you could at least be decent enough to wait til fuckin’ morning like you were s’posed ta.”

Stephen glared at him and snapped right back in his own defense.

“I don't _want_ to hurt him, I _love_ him.”

“Yeah? Well join the club, ya dumb fuck, cuz so do I. Difference is he loves you _back,”_ Mello spat. “Isn’t that _enough_ for you? Can’t you just be _happy_ with that?”

Stephen’s mouth gaped open, and he stared at the blond fireball as if seeing him for the first time. He didn't have time to even begin to process that revelation right now, though. He shook his head, as if that would clear it away.

“It’s more complicated than that, Mello, I...”

“ _Bull. Shit_ ,” Mello snarled. “You know the whole situation now, right? You know what he did and why he had to do it. You _know_ how fuckin’ sorry he is about it. Maybe you don’t know how much he agonized over it every time he had to lie to you, but _I_ fuckin’ do. You have any fuckin’ clue how many times he wanted to wuss out early on, because dating a client was too risky? How many times _I_ talked him into giving you a shot anyway, cuz I thought you’d make him happy?”

Bits of hair fell into his face as he ranted, and he violently flipped them away. He was seething with anger, but he didn’t raise his voice any higher. He dropped it instead – dropped it down to something quiet and volatile.

“I don't know what was said at your house today, Gevanni. All I know is he came out of there hurting cuz of _you.”_

“Wait, wh.. What do you mean?” Stephen said, worrying his eyebrows.

“You made him _cry,_ asshole!” Mello snapped. “Near doesn’t cry. Near _never_ fucking cries, not for _anything_. But today he did, over _you_. He cried all the way here after we picked him up from your place.”

“I… I didn’t...”

Mello marched further up into his personal space, knocking into him with his chest, scowling at him from underneath jagged bangs. He growled out his next words, low and threatening, so no one else that happened to pass through the lobby would hear.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen now. You're gonna go up there and fix this shit. You’re gonna suck it up and forgive him, and you're gonna _beg_ him to forgive _you_ for being such a stubborn _ass_ about it, even though he’ll tell ya you don’t have to apologize for it. Which he _will_. But if you really do love him, then you’ll fuckin’ do it anyway. Because if you _don’t_ – if you make him cry again, if you break his heart _again_ , you’re gonna answer to _me._ And I don't care if I have to crawl across all 53 states to do it, I’ll fucking _end_ you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. Room 216. Go.”

* * *

He was tempted to just stand outside the door a while, building up the courage to knock, but he was also pretty sure that Mello's room would be right next door. Mello would probably be returning to it soon, and maybe another confrontation wasn’t a great idea, especially right where Near could hear them.

So he knocked.

It took a minute for Near to answer, but he could hear shuffling around inside the room. When he finally opened the door, the room was dark behind him, and he had a grumpy look on his face. He was shielding his eyes from the lights of the hallway, and didn't look up at Stephen at all, just thrust a tiny liquor bottle at him.

“ _One_ more,” Near grumbled, “and I'm cutting you off after this one, Mello. I mean it. Go to bed already.”

If nothing else, at least it was hard for Stephen to be nervous with an involuntary, amused smile on his face.

“Hi, Near.”

He lowered his hand and stood blinking up at Stephen for a moment, the whites of his eyes bloodshot – like he’d been crying, as Mello had said.

He finally backed up out of the doorway, stammering nervously, “Stephen, um.. come in.”

He turned on the nearest lamp, breaking the pitch dark of the room, though still with far dimmer light than the hallway. It illuminated one side of the room, including the bed, but left the far end where the bathroom was in shadow. Stephen came in and shut the door behind himself, but didn't move far from it. Near was wearing crumpled white pajamas and white socks, and his hair was more of a mess than usual. Maybe he really had been asleep, Stephen thought remorsefully.

“I um… I know it’s late, and I’m sorry. I just.. I realized this shouldn't wait ‘til morning.”

Near put the little bottle back in the mini-fridge, then seemed not to know what to do with himself. He shuffled over to the bed and sat down. He glanced up at Stephen, with something fearful in his big dark eyes, but quickly turned his head down to stare at his socks instead.

“You said… We agreed to at least sleep on it,” he mumbled miserably.

“I know, I… I’m sorry.”

“Can we still just do that, then?” he asked softly, peeking up at him through tangled white hair. “Can we just sleep for now? Please?”

Stephen's stomach twisted. He didn't know _what_ he had been expecting to happen, coming here in the middle of the night, but he certainly didn't expect Near to turn him away when they’d hardly said two words to each other. Why even invite him into the room then?

He did _look_ awfully tired though. There were dark circles under his eyes, painfully obvious on his pale skin, with the dim lamplight making them far more pronounced than they’d been that afternoon. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, because he probably _hadn’t_ , and so much of that was Stephen's fault...

“I… Yeah, sure we can. Of course. Whatever you want, Near,” he babbled, feeling behind him for the doorknob while he stared at his shoes.

He heard the mattress creak, but when he looked up, it wasn’t Near getting up to shut the door behind him and lock him out. Near had crawled to the far side of the bed instead and was climbing under the covers. As he watched, Near flipped the covers open on the empty side, and finally met his eyes in the dimness.

“Get in,” he said.

For a second, he wasn’t sure he’d heard him right, but he latched the door, and Near didn’t protest it. He’d already lain down, and there was something soft and vulnerable about the way he watched Stephen's every move, like he was expecting him to run away. A reasonable enough expectation, he supposed, given that he’d already run away from him by a measure of a thousand miles once this week.

He stripped off his coat, as some small proof that he wasn’t going to disappear out the door when the light went out, and laid it across a chair nearby. He shot Near an unsure, crooked smile before he turned the lamp off.

He stripped off everything else in the dark, leaving only his undershirt and boxer-briefs. The rest he placed on the chair with his coat, then took a deep breath and crawled onto the bed.

The sheets were cold, made of a slick fabric that didn't seem to hold warmth well. The hotel must have forgotten, or not bothered, to switch out the summer sheets for winter ones. He pulled the covers up and over him, but that somehow made it worse. He shivered, and was glad for more than one reason when he felt Near’s weight edging closer to him.

“They aren’t too generous with the blankets in this place, are they?” he chuckled nervously.

“No, they certainly aren’t.”

Stephen reached over him, grabbing at the covers, and pulled them all toward the center, toward Near. He sat up briefly to do the same around their feet, then lay back down to fix the blankets at his own back. As he did so, Near silently moved closer, and soon they were huddled together in the middle of a cocoon of blankets, as they’d so often done back home, in Stephen's bed. So, it was easy to blame it on habit that Stephen’s next move was to wrap his arms around Near, to pull him close enough that he could nestle his face into the crook of Stephen’s neck, settling into what seemed to be his favorite sleeping position. He felt Near shiver for a few moments more, until their little cocoon began to warm up and he finally relaxed.

“Did I wake you up, when I knocked?” Stephen asked softly, rubbing a hand up and down Near’s back, hoping to warm him up more. He felt him shake his head, just slightly, against his throat.

“No. I was trying, but...”

Stephen nodded, Near’s soft, wispy hair tickling the underside of his jaw as he did. It was such a little thing, but he’d missed those little things this past week, he realized. He smiled to himself and held Near a little tighter.

“Yeah, I couldn't sleep either,” he admitted. He kissed Near’s temple softly, without even thinking about it, but it made Near relax further and let out a little hum against his throat, so he didn't dare second guess it.

Near fell asleep almost immediately after. Stephen felt a pang of guilt for that. Near _had_ to have been exhausted, because sleep for him never came quite _this_ quickly, even the times when he had spent the night with Stephen and woken up with that soft, satisfied look on his face, marveling at how well he’d slept.

Stephen didn't sleep so easy. He laid awake for at least an hour, listening to Near’s breathing, slowly untangling bits of white hair as he slept, careful not to disturb him.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have ever considered giving this up? He was holding his own heart, his happiness, maybe even his whole future, right here in his arms, and he’d come so close to throwing it away over nothing...

Well, not exactly _nothing,_ but when he thought about it – _really_ thought about it – would any of it matter to him in ten years? In _one?_ Or would it all condense into a strange little story they’d tell people someday of how they met?

Hell, if Near hadn’t been willing to lie to him at first, would that first night they spent together have even happened? Near had risked his job, risked getting himself sued, he’d said, for _them_. What Mello told him in the lobby seemed to confirm how real that risk was.

And what had Stephen done to repay him for risking so much just to be with him? He’d gotten mad, and he’d run away. He’d hurt Near, and then hurt him even worse today by turning him away without resolving anything.

God, and then he’d gone and shown up in the middle of the night at his hotel room, saying he couldn’t wait until morning to finish this…?

Stephen bit his lip to keep himself quiet. A salty tear ran along his nose and dripped off onto the pillow.

_He thinks I came here to break_ _up_ _with him, doesn’t he? That’s why he looked so sad, and scared… That’s why he wanted me to stay, why he still wanted us to sleep on it... Because he_ _thought he was_ _prolonging the inevitable. Because he_ _thought it’d be_ _for the last time…_

He held Near a little tighter, trying hard not to wake him, trying to control his own shaking. He kept himself quiet, but couldn’t stop the flow of tears making a puddle on his pillow.

_It can’t be the last time. I don’t want this to be the last time. I love you too much..._

He kissed Near's hair, and finally fell asleep, still trembling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We randomly have 53 US states in this timeline. Why? Why not? :P


	21. Forgiveness

When Stephen awoke that morning, Near was squirming beside him, murmuring unintelligible things. He couldn't tell if he was waking up or just mumbling nonsense in his sleep.

“Near, are you awake?”

Near grunted sleepily, grabbing at Stephen's undershirt and using it to pull himself forward so he could snuggle closer.

“No,” he mumbled insistently against Stephen’s throat.

“Okay then, sorry about that,” Stephen chuckled, softly, so as not to disturb Near’s ‘sleep.’ He rubbed Near’s back gently, and dozed off again himself as he waited for Near to wake up properly.

The second time Stephen awoke, he found Near had beaten him to it, but he hadn’t left the bed. He still lay there beside him, watching him with conflicted eyes.

Smiling, Stephen ran a finger along the edge of Near’s face. “Morning, beautiful.”

Near just blinked at that, and shook his head with clear trepidation. “I'm quite aware that I look like hell right now.”

“Not to me. Not ever.”

Stephen moved to kiss him, but Near pulled away when he got close, sitting up in the bed and looking away.

“Don’t… don't do that, Stephen.”

Stephen blinked, his turn to be confused. He sat up as well.

“Don’t do what?”

Near glanced at him, side-eyed, cautious. “I appreciate that you stayed, but don’t go getting my hopes up, if you’re planning to... to end it. It’s cruel.”

“Near, I… I didn't come here to _end_ anything. Quite the opposite, actually. I was planning to beg you to forgive me, and to take me back...”

_That_ Near clearly hadn’t been expecting. He sat up straighter, turned to face him properly and look him in the eye, albeit suspiciously.

“You… What?”

“I finally got some sense knocked into me yesterday, after you left the house,” he said sheepishly, wearing what he hoped was a placating smile.

Near sighed. “Did Mello hunt you down at midnight to try and beat you up? He _is_ my friend, but you can’t just let him get away with physical assault...”

“I don't mean _literally_ knocked into me, though I might’ve deserved it,” Stephen chuckled. “But, between Mello and my big sister, I did get some good advice, and a better perspective on things. And I realized what a pig-headed jerk I’ve been about this whole thing.”

Near looked down at his lap. “No, you haven't… I deserve this. I violated your privacy. I lied to you. You have every right to be angry, Stephen.”

“But I don't _have_ to be,” Stephen gently insisted. He reached over to take Near’s hands, holding them between his own. “I understand why you felt you had to lie about it. And yeah, it wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but, among other things, I realized that if you _hadn’t_ lied, at least initially, there would’ve been no _us_ in the first place, and... I would never wish that away. You’re everything to me. None of that other stuff matters, in the end, not compared to you.”

“Then… you forgive me?” Near said, in a tiny voice that was almost a whisper.

Stephen took his face in his hands, gently making sure Near looked him in the eye.

“Yes, I forgive you. For everything. A hundred percent. Total clean slate.” Stephen leaned in just long enough to give him a peck on the lips, and backed off grinning. “Now, the only question is, can you forgive my dumb ass for taking a whole week to figure all that out?”

That got a little puff of laughter out of Near, and he was glad to see it. “Of course I can.”

Stephen hauled him closer and hugged him tight, breathing in the scents of linen and cheap hotel shampoo from his hair. It was quite possibly the best thing he’d ever smelled.

“I love you so much, Nate.. Near, whoever you’d rather be,” he mumbled against his hair, suddenly overwhelmed with too many emotions to count. “I'm so sorry I ever made you doubt that. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I made you think you weren't wanted, I’m sorry...”

Near’s tiny hands spun comfort across his back and through his hair. “Hush, love. It doesn't matter anymore. Clean slates, remember?”

When Stephen eventually pulled out of the embrace, he was laughing with relief and wiping wetness from his eyes. Near held his face, smiling patiently, until Stephen finally took the hint and pressed his mouth to Near's. As soon as their lips met, he knew he'd made the right decision. Stephen kissed him long and slow, until the need for air separated them.

“I love you,” he said again, leaning his forehead against Near’s and softly rubbing their noses together. “I think I loved you even when you were just a robot, actually, but I like you a lot better this way.”

A laugh escaped Near's mouth, and as he watched, it stretched into the widest, gummiest grin he’d ever seen the little albino make in all the time he’d known him.

“I love you too,” Near said right back, and captured another kiss. When they parted, they could do little more than stare at each other with matching giddy grins.

“Come home with me,” Stephen said, when he gathered up the brainpower to form words again. “Back to my mom’s house, I mean. Come and spend Christmas with me.”

“You’re sure I’d be welcome? I don’t want to intrude on your family time..,” Near said worriedly. Stephen kissed him quick, before a frown could form.

“They’ll love you, trust me. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, you _are_ my family.”

Near’s face settled into a warm smile at that, and he touched Stephen's cheek again. “I guess it’s not too late to make a cheesy Christmas romance out of this whole mess, is it?”

Stephen only grinned wider, and winked for good measure.

“You know I’m a sucker for the cheesy stuff.” He punctuated the sentiment with another kiss. “Now, on the other hand, as for Mello and Matt...”

“Don’t worry, they won’t stick around,” Near chuckled. “They've got some, ah... very specific, very kinky Christmas plans for when they get back home. I unfortunately got to hear all about it on the trip up here.”

“Well, _we_ could get up to some kinky stuff of our own..,” Stephen snickered. He nipped teasingly at Near’s neck. “Hell, I may not be a teenager anymore, but I can finally live out the dream of fooling around with a cute guy in my old bedroom... Then again, you can get pretty loud, so maybe we should just keep the hotel.”

“We might have to switch rooms,” Near said, laughing along with him. “We’re supposed to be checking out at 11, and it’s actually on Matt's card, so...”

“ _Matt_ paid for both rooms?”

“Yes. He did all the driving up here, too, actually… and I do mean _all_ of it. His car’s a hundred year old classic. Apparently he spent years, and god knows how much money, having all its guts replaced to make it street legal. No autodrive system at all, and he’s not stupid enough to let Mello drive that car.”

“Yeah, I could see that going badly,” Stephen laughed. He scooted closer so he could pull Near into his lap and hold him tight against his chest, suddenly needing the contact.

“Still, it was good of him to do that for you. For us,” Stephen spoke into his hair, still wild and fuzzy from sleep.

“Matt's a good guy. Mello too, though he hides it well,” Near said, nuzzling against his face.

“You'll have to remind me to thank him before they leave,” Stephen said, wearing a soft smile. “To thank both of them, really. The trip was mostly Mello's idea, right?”

“Mmhm. It was obviously too spontaneous to have been my idea.”

“It’s all good, sweetness. You’re wild where it counts.” Stephen kissed his cheek, and could feel Near’s smile grow wider beneath his lips.

It wasn’t until a little later, when he was in the middle of getting redressed, and Near was packing his clothes back into his suitcase, when somebody at home finally noticed Stephen was gone.

_Where’d you go, baby bro? Late night romantic tryst or early morning self-pity pizza?,_ said the text message from his sister.

Stephen grinned at his phone as he tapped out a vague reply.

_Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Have Ma set out an extra plate for breakfast, would ya?_

Emily’s next message was all hearts and smiley face emojis, but it got the point across just fine.

* * *

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Mello said softly in his ear. He kept a wary eye on the door of his hotel room. Stephen and Matt had just left through that door, carrying the luggage down to pack up the cars. “We can stay, if not. Really.”

“I'm sure,” Near said with a soft smile, “but thank you, Mello.”

“Yeah well, what are best friends for, right?” Mello snickered, though he seemed almost embarrassed by it. He grabbed him around the shoulders in a loose side-hug. Near let himself lean into it, and let an arm slide around Mello's waist to hug him back.

“Really, thank you. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

“You gettin’ soft on me, creampuff?”

“I’ve gotten soft in a lot of ways lately, you probably know that better than I do,” Near mumbled against Mello's coat.

“Hell, you know, I think I have too, in my old age,” he laughed. Near smiled knowingly, though Mello couldn’t see it.

“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. Matt seems really good for you, you know.”

Mello looked down at him with a warm grin. “I kinda think so, too. Is this you giving us your official blessing?”

Near chuckled again and patted Mello's back. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Far out,” Mello laughed, a kind of awe in his voice. “Who’da thunk we’d both be getting a happy ending for Christmas? And for once, I don't even mean that in the ‘getting good dick’ sense… Well, not _exclusively_ in that sense. Cuz we’ll both be gettin’ all kinds of Christmas dick now, obviously.”

Near snorted, trying to keep from laughing. Mello bumped him with his hip.

“What are you giggling about, cottonball?”

He snorted again. “I just thought of something incredibly stupid.”

“Do tell, do tell.”

“Merry Dickmas, Mello.”

Mello cackled so hard he had to let go of Near so he could hold his own gut. By the time he got himself under control he was having to wipe tears from his eyes.

“Holy _shit,_ I can't believe it. It finally fuckin’ happened!”

Near raised an eyebrow at him. “What did?”

“My _magnificent_ sense of humor finally managed to rub off on you, that’s what! It only took, what, a couple years of hanging around my stupid ass?”

Mello grabbed him again, trapping him in a proper hug.

“Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“Merry Dickmas to you too, creampuff,” he said fondly, and planted a kiss on Near’s forehead.

* * *

“We’re all checked out,” Mello announced as he and Near reached the parking lot. He handed off a receipt to Matt.

“Guess this is goodbye, then,” Stephen said, moving to shut the trunk of his rental car, where Near’s suitcase now sat. “We should be back in town before New Year’s, if you guys want to hang out for the Eve or whatever.”

“Hang on, hang on, quick change of plans,” Matt said. He shut the back door of his old red car, parked beside Stephen's, where he’d just thrown in all of his and Mello's luggage.

“What do you _mean_ , change of plans?! I already bought the damn harness—”

“Not _those_ plans, Mello.” Matt opened up his car’s trunk and moved aside an inconspicuous old blanket to reveal a pile of prettily wrapped Christmas presents. “ _These_ plans. None of us wants to wait that long to open our presents, right?”

Near stepped closer to the trunk, blinking in confusion. “Wait a minute, that one’s...”

“Sure is,” Matt said with a proud grin. “I noticed it sitting on your desk while you and Mello were packing your clothes in the other room, so I snagged it. You know, in case things went well. Which I _totally knew_ they would.”

“Matty, you big softie,” Mello cooed at him, squeezing his arm.

“Hell, babe, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said with a wink.

“I didn't even think about bringing it,” Near murmured, picking up the shiny little green and gold wrapped box. “We were in such a hurry...”

“And you were too upset and scatterbrained to think about it, I know,” Matt shrugged. “That’s why I grabbed it.”

“What is it?” Stephen asked quietly, though it was easy enough to guess.

“My present, for you,” Near said softly, sounding embarrassed. He reached out for Stephen's hand and held it gently. “I had gotten it and wrapped it a while ago, before… all of this happened.”

Stephen pulled him by the hand a step closer and kissed his temple, smiling. “I set aside a couple of things for you too, you know, _before_ , but obviously those are still back at my apartment… Sorry.”

“Nothin’ wrong with extra after-Christmas presents, though, right?” Mello said with a grin. “Somethin’ to look forward to when you guys get home. Much like how we’ve got some special stuff waiting for us...”

Mello ran a hand suggestively down Matt's chest. Near cleared his throat emphatically as Stephen stifled a laugh.

“Matt, which of the rest of these are which?” Near asked.

Matt pried Mello off of himself to tend to the gifts, leaving Mello to pout a little as he separated them.

“Well, this great big one’s from Mello to uh.. both of you guys, I think.”

“It’s a bunch of stuff actually. But I fuckin’ hate wrapping paper so I threw it all in one big box. I mean shit, people _like_ getting giant presents, right? It’s fine.” Mello leaned in close to them, with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. “Just don't open that thing in front of grandma, okay? Unless grandma happens to be _really_ fuckin’ progressive.”

“For god’s sake, Mello,” Near grumbled, but the corner of his mouth was twitching and trying to smile at it.

“Hey, don't be a prude, you’re gonna fuckin’ thank me later,” Mello cackled. He winked and aimed a finger gun at Stephen. “And _you,_ you’re gonna _really_ thank me. You’ll see.”

“I'm… a little bit scared, honestly.”

“That’s a wise reaction to most things that Mello is this proud of..,” Near said.

“And _these,_ ” Matt said, shoving an armful of gift boxes at Stephen, “are from yours truly.”

“ _All_ of them?” Stephen gasped, struggling to keep from dropping any.

“What can I say? It’s been a while since I’ve had people to buy shit for.” Matt shrugged casually. “But hey, at least mine are more family friendly, if you wanna open ‘em in front of people.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said, once the gifts had all been piled into his rental car’s trunk. “Both of you. Not just for the gifts, but… for everything, you know?”

“Yeah, well,” Matt said, scratching the back of his head and wearing an embarrassed grin. “What are friends for, if not embarking on crazy cross-country adventures in the name of true love, huh?”

He reached for his trunk again, but rather than close it, Matt swept aside another blanket to reveal a whole other cache of gifts hidden in the other half of the huge trunk.

“There's more?!” Stephen exclaimed.

“Well, not for _you,”_ Matt told him, grinning. He grabbed Mello around the waist. Mello's mouth gaped open for a second, dumbstruck.

“No way. Is all of that for...?”

“Yup!” Matt confirmed with a giddy laugh to his voice. “What can I say? I got myself a princess for Christmas this year, and I fully intend to spoil the hell out of him.”

“You really.. didn't have.. to.. do..,” Mello was mumbling, still staring at all the gifts.

Stephen embraced Near from behind and murmured in his ear, “I don't think I've ever seen Mello rendered speechless before.”

“Me neither,” Near admitted, smiling.

Matt turned Mello's face toward him with a gloved finger and kissed a bit of the shock off of it.

“What? It's Christmas, so why shouldn't I shower my baby with gifts, huh?” he said cheekily.

Mello laughed, seeming to come back to himself. He wrapped his arms around Matt's neck, and Matt wrapped his around Mello's waist in kind, pulling him close.

“You're fucking awesome,” Mello said, wearing a grin.

“Yeah, I know,” Matt laughed, wearing a bigger one.

Stephen and Near discreetly turned to leave as the two of them began making out against the side of Matt’s car, but they were happy for them nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tapping into the sap now, tehehe.
> 
> We’re almost to the end and I’m being a slowpoke, mostly because I’ve been working more on the epilogue though. Progress! :)


	22. Welcome

Near felt like an idiot, stumbling nervously through Stephen's introduction of him to his mother and sister. Stephen made sure to briefly explain that he preferred to be called Near, which he was a bit embarrassed by, but Stephen's family didn’t seem to think any less of him for it.

Stephen's sister, Emily Rester, had greeted them both at the door with hugs, exclaiming how excited she was to ‘officially’ meet Near, following their brief encounter the day before.

His mother, Belle Gevanni, was a short, dark-haired lady gone half grey. It was obvious that she’d been a real beauty in her prime, fitting for her name. A gracious host, too, she happily offered Near refreshments practically from the moment he was in the door, hardly waiting for the introductions to be done before she wanted to shuffle him and Stephen off to the waiting breakfast table. When they didn't immediately go for that, she offered to bring them out coffee or juice to tide them over until they did.

She tugged Stephen off into another room with her once everyone was acquainted, whispering something at him as they went. Near started to follow, but Emily held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t. Pretty sure she’s doing her dutiful mom thing right now,” Emily quietly chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’ll get you alone soon enough and give you the old ‘what are your intentions with my son’ speech.”

“Oh,” Near mumbled, unconsciously tugging at his hair.

“It’s just a formality, don’t worry too much about it.”

“I _have_ survived far worse conversations lately,” he realized. He took a deep breath and untangled his fingers from his hair. “I suppose I can handle a ‘mom speech’ after all that.”

“You’ll be fine. Like I said, a formality. She does this every time one of us has brought a guy home, at _any_ age.” Emily got a thoughtful look on her face for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Well, every time _I_ ever brought a guy home. I think you’re actually the first boyfriend Stephen's brought around.”

A smile came to his face unbidden. Just being referred to as Stephen's boyfriend made him feel all warm inside.

Emily nudged him, still chuckling softly. “You look a whole lot happier than when I saw you yesterday. I guess you two found a way to work everything out after all? I know Stephen was agonizing about it, and I’m sure you were too.”

“Yes. I’m still not exactly sure what made him change his mind, but...” Near looked down at the floor bashfully. “Your name did come up, so I feel I should thank you for whatever it is that you said to him.”

She clapped him on the shoulder, taking his attention off the floor and back to her. She was flashing him a wide grin.

“Hey, I’m just glad he actually listened to me,” she laughed. “So, you two are really okay now? Obviously you’re _here,_ so...”

He answered with a shy smile in turn, unable to help himself. “Yes, I think we’re quite okay now.”

Emily giggled and, without warning, grabbed him up in a tight hug.

“In that case,” she whispered in his ear, “welcome to the family, Near.”

* * *

Stephen was down to his underclothes. It was too warm in the house for the flannel pajamas he’d packed. He sat on the edge of the twin-sized bed in his old room, pulling his socks off.

Near was brushing his teeth in the shared bathroom that was situated between his and Emily’s bedrooms, with doors to each. Stephen waited for him with a strange kind of nervousness; he kept his breathing hushed, listening for the water to stop running in the sink.

Near came out at last, and caught his eye from the doorway. He had pulled out his white pajamas from his suitcase earlier, but had left them lying on the other side of the room. He locked the bathroom door behind him and locked his eyes on Stephen's face. He approached the bed slowly, stripping off his clothing as he walked. Stephen watched his every move, enraptured, until he stood naked in front of him.

“Near, um, just so you know, we can't really, uh... I don't have any lube with me...”

“I don't care. I just need to feel your skin on mine.”

Near stepped between his legs and grabbed his face, kissing away any further arguments.

Near crawled onto the bed then. He watched with smoldering eyes as Stephen scrambled to yank the last of his own clothes off so he could join him in the little bed. Near reached out with open arms to pull him in close, and ran his fingers over the curve of his butt and the muscles of his abs as Stephen was fixing the covers around them. Stephen dove at him the moment he was done, kissing his neck and letting his hands roam over creamy milk-white skin that he hadn't touched in far too long.

He hadn't tasted him in a long time now either, he realized. And while he might not have the proper preparations to take things as far as he'd like to, he did at the very least have a mouth.

Stephen took his time with it, exploring Near bit by bit. He wanted to kiss and lick and suck and bite at every last delicious inch of his lover’s body. By the time he reached his real prize, Near was already hard and ready for him, and all but eating the pillow in his efforts to keep himself quiet. Stephen wished he didn't _have_ to be quiet; he’d always loved all the noises Near made, loved that _he_ was the cause of them, loved finding new special spots to tease that would elicit new noises from him. But he could feel Near's suppressed moans vibrating under his skin as he sucked him into his mouth, and that was intoxicating in its own way.

He teased him still, giving his cock only a brief suck before abandoning it to kiss and bite at his inner thighs. He lifted up his legs so he could nuzzle at his tender sac and spend a minute stimulating the puckered hole beneath with a lapping tongue.

“Nnngh, you’re making me crazy,” Near whined, and immediately clamped his teeth back into the pillow again, keening muffled noises into it.

“That’s the idea,” Stephen giggled, his jaw already getting tired.

He decided to show him mercy now, though. He licked his way over Near’s balls and up to the tip of his leaking cock, savoring his juices before he sucked him down hard. Near bucked up into his mouth, his body thrumming with the moans he couldn’t make out loud for fear of waking up the whole house.

Stephen allowed himself one indulgent moan when Near’s cock head briefly slid into the back of his throat, encouraging Near to do it again. He seemed to get the message. In seconds his fingers were pulling at Stephen's hair and he was fucking up into his mouth without restraint. He lasted only a few thrusts before Stephen's throat was given a thick, hot coating of cum.

Near’s hand fell from his hair, his body limp and shuddering as Stephen's tongue teased out what was left and drank it down. Near watched him with half-lidded eyes as he crawled his way back up his body, pulling the fallen blankets back over them both. Stephen nuzzled his neck, lying half on top of Near as they both caught their breath. With their chests pressed together, they seemed to breathe as one, Stephen breathing in as Near breathed out, one’s lungs filling the space where the other’s emptied. He felt Near’s fingers combing through his hair again, gently this time.

“I can’t move,” Near mumbled, but there was a hum of amusement in it.

“You don’t have to,” Stephen said to his throat, punctuating it with tiny kisses.

“But what about you?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen said distractedly. He’d done a good job of ignoring his own needs until now – until Near called attention to them. He tried to be subtle about adjusting his aching, neglected erection, but he only managed to rub it up against Near’s skin and make himself that much more desperate to relieve it.

“Then what’s that poking at my thigh, love?” Near asked, a smile evident in his voice.

“Don’t know. Squirrel got in the house, maybe. Should really… call an exterminator in the morning..,” Stephen babbled sleepily, lazily grinding himself against Near’s soft skin.

“He’s awfully insistent, this pesky squirrel,” Near giggled. He found Stephen's cock and gave it a firm squeeze. Stephen let out a needy whine against his throat.

Near shifted a little beneath him, and before Stephen could figure out just what he was up to, Near had guided his cock into the crease where Near’s inner thigh met his body, still sweat-slick from his exertions moments ago. His fingers continued to work at him, spreading dribbling precum around the spot to lubricate it further.

“How’s that?” Near asked in a husky voice, right in his ear. Stephen couldn't help but shudder at it.

He moved experimentally, thrusting into the warm, slickened furrow between Near’s thigh and genitals. He bit his lip to muffle a moan. Near chuckled warmly against his skin, and kissed him wherever he could reach. He squeezed his thigh inward, making the passage tighter around Stephen’s cock, and reached a hand around his backside to massage his balls while Stephen rutted faster and faster into the gap.

“That’s it, love... Now _cum for me_ ,” Near growled low in his ear. That was all the push he needed to topple over the edge and spill hot seed on Near’s skin.

He wanted to collapse, but forced himself to move aside for just a minute – long enough for Near to grab Stephen's discarded undershirt from the floor and clean up his mess with it.

Stephen snuggled close when he was finished, his whole world defined by the way their skin stuck together with sweat.

“I missed you,” Stephen whispered against his hair. “So, so much...”

Near's fingers were suddenly on his face, drawing him down so their lips could meet.

“Me too,” Near whispered against his mouth, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name dropppp! Why yes, Emily’s husband Anthony is indeed that Anthony. For anybody that might’ve wondered about that earlier. :P
> 
> I mean, there had to be a Rester cameo somewhere, lol. Betcha thought he’d be the boss man at SPK Insurance or something, but nnnnnope. XD
> 
> ...assuming anyone even thought about it. Just me? Okay then. XD
> 
> (also woooooooo dickmas came early lollll)


	23. Family

Stephen woke up to the sunshine bouncing off Near’s white hair.

He laughed to himself. Nobody should ever be this happy to be awoken by blinding sunlight assaulting their eyes, but he _was_ , and he couldn’t help but laugh at himself for it.

He burrowed under Near’s chin to escape the sun. He would be perfectly content to stay like that all day long if he could.

Naturally, his wise older sister picked that moment to bang on the bedroom door.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” she shouted from the hallway outside. “Breakfast will be on the table in fifteen minutes!”

Near shook awake, rolling right into a beam of bright light. He made a whining noise and blocked his eyes. Stephen propped himself up on an elbow, making himself into a partial shield from the sun for him, and began kissing his grumpiness away even before Near was fully awake. There was something soft and warm and satisfying about it – about knowing from experience that Near hated being woken up, and knowing just how to soothe his adorable early-morning grump and make him smile. Doting on him felt domestic. It felt good. It felt _right_.

Near seemed to have forgotten where he was, mumbling sleepily between kisses that Stephen should stay home from work today. He knew it was safe to stop when Near quit mumbling, when his arms encircled him and he began kissing back in earnest, humming contentment against Stephen's lips. Stephen backed off and, yes, there it was: a soft little smile to replace the grumpy frown.

“ _There’s_ my sweetness,” Stephen chuckled, and kissed the tip of his nose for good measure.

Near rolled his eyes, but smiled wider. “I am not _sweet._ ”

“Are too,” Stephen argued, grinning, and went in for a taste to prove it. He let his tongue probe Near’s mouth lazily, slowly, like a cave explorer mapping out every bit of it.

He was dimly aware of Near’s hands traveling down his body, and _very_ aware when Near’s hips rose off the mattress to grind against him.

“Mm, maybe we should sneak away later and find out what’s in that big box Mello gave us...” Stephen dragged the words over Near’s lips, as he couldn’t bear to fully part with them. Near seemed of the same mind, kissing him hard when his words were done. He snuck a hand between them and went straight for Stephen's cock head, squeezing and teasing it to life, muffling Stephen's surprised grunts with his tongue.

When Near finally let up for a moment, he was out of breath, his grey eyes smoldering and intense. He licked his lips, his hand easing down the length of Stephen's growing erection.

“Shower,” he said, his voice guttural and strained. “I want to suck you off in the shower. Right now.”

Stephen wasted no time obliging. As soon as he could convince Near to detach himself from him, he hopped out of bed, peeked into the shared bathroom to make sure the coast was clear, and double checked that the door to Emily’s room was locked. Near had already locked the door to their own room behind them and was impatiently running his hands up and down Stephen’s body by the time the shower water had warmed up.

Near tackled him against the tile wall the moment they stepped in, and it was all Stephen could do to keep his footing. Near dragged his face down to his level and sucked on his tongue, like a preview of things to come, as he ground his erection against Stephen’s. He dropped to his knees a moment later, without warning or decorum, and devoured his cock whole, like a starving man choking down his first meal in a month. He let him slide back into his throat and swallowed around him, throat muscles pulsating around his hyper-sensitive head. In seconds, Near had one hand working his sac and the other grabbing his ass, the fingernails biting into his flesh. Stephen hadn’t even come yet and he was already seeing stars.

Instinctively, he wanted to move in and out of Near’s mouth, but Near’s grip on him didn't really allow for that. Near, seeming to read his mind, grabbed Stephen's hand and guided it onto the back of his head, all the while staring intensely up at him, his lips still clamped around his cock. With Near’s silent permission, Stephen buried his fingers in his wet hair and tugged his head back a bit, then pulled him forward again to meet the thrust of his hips, fucking his throat. Near moaned ecstatically around his cock and sucked him impossibly harder, his white eyelashes fluttering shut.

Stephen bit his lip hard, keeping his groaning as quiet as he could. He wouldn’t last long this way, but that was alright. Near got off on the rough treatment, he knew, but the longer it went on, the greater the chances he’d accidentally hurt him.

When he was close, he pulled Near’s head halfway back, so he wouldn’t choke him with it. Near clearly knew what was coming, and teased his cock head mercilessly with his tongue, working his slit open, making Stephen cry out loud as he filled Near’s mouth. He sucked him another moment still, even with cum dribbling out the corner of his mouth and shower water splashing on his face, until he seemed satisfied that Stephen was drained.

Stephen could hardly stand by the end and had to lean heavily against the tile. Near’s legs were clearly shaky too after being down on his knees so long, and he clung to Stephen as he caught his breath.

When he seemed stable enough, Stephen reached over for the bottle of body wash.

As he was squeezing out the soap into his hand, Near began to impatiently rub up against him, his dick alternately slipping and sticking on Stephen's wet skin. Stephen clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“Unh-uh, not like that,” he said, turning Near around so that his back was pressed to Stephen's chest. “Let me take care of you, sweet love.”

He rubbed the soap over Near’s thin chest, teasing at his nipples while he worked it up into a smooth lather. Near squirmed and undulated against him, chasing after Stephen's hands whenever they dipped a little low and retreated back up.

“ _Please_ ,” Near gasped, his throat sounding rough. Stephen kissed his neck, as if to make it better. He didn't tease any longer, though.

He let one soapy hand meander down to cup his sac and then bit into his shoulder the way he liked. Near moaned and shivered, arching his back as Stephen's other hand trailed down his stomach and gave him the touch he needed at last. He slicked his soapy hand over his cock in quick, firm strokes while Near shook and shuddered and unraveled into a panting, whimpering mess in his arms. Just before he came, he wrenched Stephen’s mouth off his shoulder for a desperate, needy kiss.

Needless to say, they were late for breakfast.

* * *

Emily’s husband and son showed up that afternoon. Emily was kind and warm towards Near from the get-go, but once her 11-year-old autistic son Trace took a liking to him, she was ready to push her little brother straight into wedding plans.

So many people, both kids and adults, were put off by Trace’s standoffish behavior and obsessive-compulsive tendencies that his mother was elated to see him get along so well with someone. Near wasn’t particularly trying to impress anyone, either. He genuinely liked the boy. He reminded him a lot of himself, when he was younger and even more awkward being around other people.

Trace loved Legos and building blocks, reminding Near of his childhood obsession with building little towers out of anything he could get his hands on – a habit he had been mostly broken of by the time he was Trace’s age, due to all the bullying it earned him at the institute. He still stacked things at his desk sometimes, out of boredom, but never to the degree that he used to. Helping Trace build little cities on the living room floor, between the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the warmth of the fireplace, was a surreal and cathartic experience.

He even advised Trace on how to better structure the things he built, so he could make them taller without them falling over. Trace was so overjoyed when the advice paid off that he actually gave Near a brief hug – something unheard of, according to Emily, with anyone other than his parents, grandma, and favorite uncle.

The boy also loved doing brain-teasers and puzzles. Emily even carried a Rubik's cube in her purse for him to fidget with if he got overstimulated when they were away from home. Upon hearing that he’d never actually solved the cube before, Near offered to show him a technique he’d learned as a child. Trace jumped at the chance and marveled as Near set each color in order. He narrated what he was doing, step by step, but he hardly seemed to need to. The boy paid close attention and learned very fast. Once Trace had caught onto the basic logic of it, he had no trouble replicating the technique himself, solving the re-shuffled cube within a few minutes after seeing Near do it just once. He spent a good portion of Christmas Eve handing off his Rubik's cube to anyone who happened to be around and challenging them to shuffle it, just so he could solve it and show it off. At that point, Stephen’s prestigious status as Trace’s favorite uncle was already in jeopardy.

Emily's husband, Anthony Rester, soon warmed up to him as well. He was a retired military man, now a high-level consultant in DC, and had a stark, no-nonsense manner about him. His demeanor softened when his wife and son were around, though. He would jump to fulfill any request either of them made, assuming he hadn’t anticipated it before they’d asked. In just a couple of days, it came to be that whenever Trace and Near became engrossed in some project or puzzle in the floor, Anthony wouldn't just bring refreshments over for his son, but for both of them. When Trace wasn’t in the room, Anthony regaled Near with his proudest ‘war stories,’ seeming happy to have someone around who hadn’t heard them all yet.

Predictably, with a child in the house, Christmas morning centered around him, and most of the gifts under the tree were his.

Before Trace opened a single one, though, he insisted on sorting them all out and ‘delivering’ the adults’ gifts. First, Trace brought a modest pile of presents to his grandmother, sitting in her armchair – her late husband’s favorite chair, as she’d told Near the day before. His parents came next. They sat together in the center of the couch, and soon had gifts piled on either side of them. Last were the ones for Stephen from his family, and the little green and gold one from Near. (They’d prudently left the rest in the car trunk, fearing that even Matt's ‘family-friendly’ ones might prove awkward to show off.)

Thinking all was done, Near was surprised to find Trace coming back toward their spot on the floor a second time, carrying two more gifts that he handed to Near, not Stephen. One was wrapped in the same red Santa Claus-laden paper as most of the other presents, the other a plain cardboard box with a bow haphazardly stuck on top. Trace grinned, laughed, and ran off to open his own gifts, all while Near still sat awestruck.

Stephen leaned over to kiss his temple.

“Open them, sweetness,” he whispered in his ear.

He studied the prettier present first. It was indeed addressed to ‘Near,’ from ‘The Family,’ as written in a feminine hand, with a little heart drawn on the tag. He could only assume Emily had written it. The plain one didn't have a proper tag, just ‘NEAR’ scrawled in pen on the box itself.

He opened the pretty one first and found a tea sampler inside, housed in an ornate little wooden box, and an electric coaster meant to keep a mug warm.

“I hope you like it,” Emily said from the couch. “Stephen said you liked tea, so…”

“I do,” Near said, feeling so warm inside that he couldn’t help smiling. “Thank you.”

He held onto the other gift for a moment, feeling awkward about opening them both right away when Stephen hadn’t touched any of his yet. He felt more awkward still when Stephen reached for his little green and gold one first. Near sat fidgeting with the bow on his plain-box gift while he watched Stephen untie the gold ribbon.

“It’s… it’s nothing much, really,” Near mumbled as Stephen carefully pried open one end of the green wrapping paper. “I didn't really know what to get… and I’ve never been very good at gift-giving…”

Stephen was grinning when he finally freed his small prize from its box: an oversized coffee mug emblazoned with the phrase “Love Your Beans.” Below the words, two cartoonish coffee beans held hands, one kissing the other on the cheek, indicated by a little heart floating above them. Stuffed inside the mug were three sample-sized bags of fancy coffees.

“It’s silly, I know…”

Stephen slung an arm around him and pulled him close before he could say more, kissing his cheek.

“I love it,” he assured him. “I love _you_.”

Stephen then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Near closed his eyes and pretended not to hear Emily squealing to her husband about what a cute couple they made.

“And look, our presents even go together!” Stephen laughed as they parted, placing the mug on the floor beside Near’s tea box. Near hummed in happy agreement, his head on Stephen's shoulder.

“Open mine, open mine!” Trace suddenly shouted from across the room, pointing at Near’s other gift. The boy had actually stopped midway through opening his own presents, probably noticing that the box was in Near’s lap.

“Oh, Near, I think you’d better do as he says!” Mrs. Gevanni laughed.

Near then realized that everyone’s eyes were on him. Fighting down a blush, he pulled slightly away from Stephen and sat up properly. He pulled the bow off of the box – the little sticky tab holding the bow on was also the only thing holding the box closed. He opened the flaps to reveal a blue and white robot made of Legos.

“Well that cinches it, you’re the new favorite,” Stephen said, smiling.

“You like it?” Trace asked, bouncing in place.

Near nodded emphatically. “I love it. Thank you, Trace.”

The boy flashed him a wide grin, then dove right back into opening his own presents. At Emily's insistence, Near held the little robot up for all to see. When the women were done cooing over it, Near sank against Stephen’s side, hugging his robot to his chest. It was all too overwhelming – these kind and loving people, accepting him, treating him like he belonged, like he was one of them. He felt like his heart would burst. He had Stephen's arm around him, though, squeezing him softly, keeping him grounded, and that was all he really needed.

A smattering of aunts and uncles, cousins and little ones showed up for Christmas dinner and quick gift exchanges, but none stuck around beyond that. They all lived at most a couple of towns away from Belle Gevanni's house, making it an ideal central hub for get-togethers. Near did his best to be sociable and make a good impression on Stephen's extended family, but by the end of the day he was completely drained from being around so many people. He was happy to spend the quiet evening after they'd all left helping Trace build a second Christmas tree from the discarded boxes and gift wrap strewn about the living room. He was even happier to spend the night warm in Stephen's arms, watching silent snow falling outside the window by their bed.

Rather than fly back home after Christmas, Stephen extended his car rental. They made a road trip of it, far more casual than Near’s trip up with Matt and Mello had been.

They stopped at hotels along the way where they could be as wild and loud as they wanted. They really had snuck away to see what Mello's gift contained while they were still staying at the house, and now had more toys and types of lube at their disposal than they knew what to do with. Each time they stopped for the night, they found new ways to play with each other. Near hadn't complained one bit about the quiet, secretive lovemaking that had ended each day of their stay in the Gevanni house – it had been soft and intimate and wonderful in its own way – but it was great to be able to let loose again, to hold nothing back, and laugh about the noise complaints in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo Christmas in February! Unless you’re reading this in the future, possibly when it’s more seasonally appropriate.
> 
> ...I’m not sure where the heck Trace’s name came from. Maybe Rester is into (what would be in this timeline, classical) country music. He seems like the type that would be, lol. But it’s also an odd enough name that I could see it befitting a Wammy’s kid, so when it popped in my head, it seemed to fit. XD
> 
> He hopefully doesn't seem like a Near clone or something. He’s just got a couple of the hallmarks that this Near happens to have been suppressing for a long time. Yay catharsis. :)
> 
> The similarities are also there to illustrate, for Near’s sake, that not only can he fit in just fine with this family, but that it’s the sort of family that wouldn’t have rejected him if he’d been born into it. (Everybody say it with me: d’awwww <3)
> 
> ...if this chapter didn’t kill you with wholesome, the author’s notes will.
> 
> ......I tagged this sucker as ‘sappy ending’ for a reason lol
> 
> Only one chapter left! And it’s a big’un, because we could always use extra fanservice, right? :P


	24. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the fabled epilogue, folks! It’s extra-extra long and sappy. Enjoy! :P

“It’s really nothing much to look at…”

“I know, sweet love,” Stephen said, bending down to whisper in his ear. “You’ve been saying that for the past hour.”

“Right…”

Stephen could hear him take a deep breath as he turned the key in the lock; he rubbed Near’s back lightly, hoping to ease his nerves. Despite all his reassurances, Near was obviously still reluctant to let Stephen see his apartment, and his workspace within it. They had to get it over with sooner or later, though, and Near had wanted to stop off and grab a change of clothes once they got back to town anyway. They’d taken the scenic route home – in more ways than one – and now that they were finally back, they had just a few hours before they were due at Mello's New Year’s Eve party.

Near’s warnings about the place hadn’t exactly been _wrong,_ he found. The apartment was tiny and drab. Its furnishings were sparse and utilitarian – a computer desk and chair, a single couch, a single table, a bookshelf, and a kitchen so small it hardly seemed to warrant the half-wall that made it a separate room.

Everything looked meticulously clean, if a little dusty after being unoccupied for more than a week. There were so few personal effects that it might have passed for a hotel room, if not for the computer setup that dominated the space. The only thing that seemed to break the pattern was the coat closet – hardly more than a recess in the wall, really, without even a proper door. It was piled up with blankets and a couple of light jackets and sweatshirts, all sitting atop a stack of clear storage bins. They looked to be filled with the kinds of odds and ends most people would have spread all over their living space.

Stephen thought himself minimalistic, but if anything, Near’s apartment was more befitting for someone that moved all the time.

Near moved toward his computer desk, turning on the monitor.

“Well, this is it,” he said nervously.

Stephen came up beside him, running his eyes over the camera feeds showing on the screen – a dozen of them, all told, though not all seemed to be active. Some were just black squares.

“I work from my phone if I’m away from home,” Near said softly. “Most of the time, though…”

A headset with a microphone lay on the desk. Stephen reached out and ran his fingers over one of the earpieces, smiling. He couldn't blame Near for being nervous – hell, he’d been a bit nervous himself. Downright worried, in fact, that maybe seeing Near’s side of things would stir everything up again, make him change his mind about forgiving it, make him somehow _not okay_ with this again.

But actually being here, looking at this stuff… He didn't feel resentful at all.

Instead, he found himself focusing on that headset, remembering conversations with Near the AI. Even _knowing_ , there had still been some level of disconnect between the two Nears in his mind. When he looked at the headset, though – when he imagined Near sitting here, wearing it, talking to him all those times – the connection seemed clearer.

When he looked back to Near at last – _his_ Near, the human and the robot all rolled into one – he had a fearful look in his eyes and was tugging at a curl of white hair. Stephen pulled his hand away, gently untangling the hair from around his fingers, and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Haven’t been flirting with anyone else through this thing, have you?” he asked jokingly.

“No,” Near said firmly, grasping his hand. “You’re the first… and the last.”

Stephen grinned at that, bringing Near’s hand up to kiss it.

“What about them, then?” he laughed, nodding his head toward the monitor. “Any of them ever try to flirt with you?”

Near shrugged. His nerves finally seemed to settle, his lips curling up into a sneaky little smile.

“I can’t help it if all the grandmothers love me, Stephen.”

“That’s true. My mom is a grandmother, after all, and she adores you.”

Near’s face turned serious. “Really?”

“Really.” Stephen hugged him around the waist and kissed his forehead. “You wanna know what she told me, right before we left?”

Near looked up at him with a curious shine in his big grey eyes. Stephen ran a hand through his soft hair; just looking at Near brought a smile to his face.

“She said you were a keeper, so I shouldn't get into any more silly fights with you.”

“But… she didn’t _know_ about..?” Near gestured vaguely toward his computer, a puzzled look on his face.

“No, ‘course not. But it’s good advice, nonetheless.” Stephen let his fingers trail down from Near’s hair, along the shell of his ear, and all the way to his chin. He tipped his chin up and bent to kiss him, soft and slow, until Near hummed against his lips and melted into it.

When he began to pull away, Near took his face in both his little hands, keeping him from going too far. He looked up at him, his eyes so hypnotic Stephen wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d started swirling.

“I love you, Stephen,” he whispered shakily.

Stephen smiled wide and leaned his forehead against Near’s, rubbing their noses together.

“I love you, Near,” he assured him, “and I’m never letting you go, not ever again.”

* * *

Near opened his belated Christmas presents with a kind of awe, as he had when Stephen gave him his gloves and when his family had surprised him by giving him anything at all. Inside the gift bags were new shoes, a plush, luxurious looking coat, and even a thin sweater he could layer under it.

“I might have snuck a peek at your shoe and clothing sizes at some point,” Stephen laughed shyly. “You seemed to be hurting for new ones, so…”

“It.. it's not as if I couldn't afford to replace them, I… They're still functional, so I didn't see a need to,” Near said, embarrassed.

It was a holdover from his institute days, he supposed. Nobody there ever had nice new things. They made do with hand-me-downs from the older kids and stuff from charity donation shops. Some kids hated that. Mello had clearly been one of those kids, and maybe Matt too. Mello was all about luxury when it came to his apartment, furniture, clothes, owning both a car _and_ a fancy motorcycle… And Matt's apartment was full of things an institute kid would pine after, his souped-up old muscle car one that a young boy might’ve admired. Near had never cared enough about the material conditions of the institute to really rebel against them when he got out, though. He liked having clean things and quiet surroundings, but that was about the extent of it.

Stephen hugged him close and kissed the side of his face.

“I didn't mean it as a slight against your old stuff, sweetness. But you have _me_ now, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, I like taking care of you. So you'll have to get used to being spoiled, or I'll end up driving you crazy.”

Near smiled and reached up to touch his face. Stephen kissed his palm and his wrist, never taking his eyes off him. Near raised up on tiptoe to catch his lips, letting his hand drift downward to tease his chest while he explored them. His mouth lingered for long moments, dragging along Stephen's lips, before he let himself kiss him properly. Stephen groaned with relief when he did, kissing him back hard and grabbing at his waist insistently.

Stephen chuckled against his lips when they stopped to breathe. “Speaking of presents.. We’ve got time, you wanna try out some more of our new toys before we head out to the party?”

“No, love. It's our first time back in your.. _our_ bed. Let's take things slow.” Near kissed him once more, softly, and looked into his eyes. “Give me a few minutes to get ready, okay?”

Stephen began to pout, but Near laid a finger over his lips before he could say anything, smiling deviously up at him.

“I’ll make it worth your wait,” Near promised.

* * *

Near lit the last of the candles and flicked the overhead light off, casting the bedroom in a warm, shuddering fire glow. He opened the bedroom door just a crack.

“You can come in now,” he called out, and shut the door again.

He hurried into the bathroom to hide, butterflies swirling in his stomach and trying to fly up his throat as giggles. By the time he heard Stephen enter the bedroom, he was bouncing on the balls of his bare feet with anticipation, but forced himself to be calm and coy.

“Sit on the bed,” he ordered, speaking through the crack in the bathroom door.

Stephen chuckled at the instruction, but he heard the bed creak nonetheless.

“I thought you didn't want to do any kinky stuff?”

Near fought down a grin, and straightened his outfit a little before opening the bathroom door wide. He’d left the bathroom entirely dark, in order to keep him in shadow until he slinked out, stretching up against the doorway to strike (what he hoped would be) a sexy pose.

“I only declined the toys, technically,” he purred. He ran a finger along the edge of his black lace nightie, from the flimsy knotted ribbon that held it together at his chest, all the way down his stomach to the matching lace panties that barely hid anything. Stephen’s eyes followed the trail his finger made, his jaw hanging open but apparently unable to form words, so Near was willing to call his sexy act a success.

Stephen was still a bit stunned when Near walked over to join him. He stepped between Stephen’s legs, carded a hand through his hair, and began to kiss his neck. Stephen seemed to come out of his shock then, running his hands up Near’s bare legs.

“Hi,” Stephen said breathlessly.

“Hi,” Near giggled back at him, unable to help himself. He backed off a little so he could look him in the eye – and so Stephen could get another eye-full of him. “You like it?”

“It’s not something I ever thought I’d be into, but _hot damn_ …” Stephen ran a finger up Near’s inner thigh and traced along the lace edge of the panties. “Mello was right about one thing, I’m gonna _really_ be thanking him later…”

Near laughed and kissed him. Stephen tried to pull him close, but Near backed off, eyes hooded and grinning.

“I'm not letting you get off that easily, love,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Take it off. Take _everything_ off.”

Stephen stood and stripped without a moment’s hesitation. Near toyed with the ribbon closure of his nightie while he watched. Stephen’s underwear came off last, and in the flickering candlelight Near could see that he was half-hard already. A thrill went down his spine, and he made a mental note to have Mello take him shopping for more lingerie sometime.

“Good boy,” Near breathed, licking his lips. He approached Stephen, but only close enough to press a hand against his chest. “Now lie down… and get _comfortable_ , love. You're going to be there a while.”

“Am I?” Stephen chuckled, but did as he was told. He laid on his back in the center of the bed. Near came up to the edge, walking his fingers along Stephen’s legs.

“Comfy?” he asked, a wicked smile on his face.

“Mhm, now what?”

“Spread your arms wide.”

He did as he was told, looking like a naked snow angel on the bed-covers. The candlelight made his every muscle stand out in gorgeous relief. Stephen’s blue eyes twinkled with the jumping flames, and they stayed trained on Near, waiting for his next ‘order.’

Near bit his lip, suppressing a groan. Stephen was completely perfect, and he was _all his_.

Near allowed himself but a moment to drink in the sight of him before he got up onto the bed, on his knees between Stephen’s ankles.

“Now you’ll stay that way, until I say otherwise,” Near chuckled darkly. “No moving, no touching.”

“Nnngh, you’re kidding,” Stephen whimpered. His body already trembled, as if to rebel against the notion.

“Have you ever known me to _kid,_ darling?” Near dropped onto all fours and planted a kiss on Stephen’s thigh. His cock twitched, but he stayed put.

Near crawled up his body, eyes locked on Stephen’s, the lace draping down from his top to tickle Stephen’s skin as he moved. He lingered long at his waist, teasing Stephen’s erection with the lace, not moving on until Stephen was shaking from the sensation. His hands twitched, clearly aching to touch Near, touch himself, touch _something_. Near’s eyes kept their hypnotic hold on him, though, and he didn’t dare disobey.

Near kissed his way up his abs and chest, giving each of his nipples a lick before he let the lace tease them. By the time he reached his mouth, Stephen was trembling and whining twice as much as before. Near bit his bottom lip playfully and soothed it with his tongue.

“You’re allowed to move your mouth,” Near assured him. He kissed him hard, and Stephen sucked on his tongue desperately. He whined loud when Near broke the kiss off.

“This is torture,” he pouted.

“I’m well aware,” Near laughed wickedly. “Although, I suppose it’s only fair that you be allowed to move your head as well as your mouth, hm?”

Stephen nodded emphatically, probably just because he _could_ , now. It was too cute, and made Near break his act to giggle at it.

“Now then, I forgot something important on the nightstand… and I suggest you put your newfound freedom to good use while I retrieve it.”

Near gifted him another quick kiss before crawling further up the bed. Stephen caught on to the game quick, lifting his head up to lick at Near as he passed. He even managed to catch a lace-covered nipple in his lips; Near paused a moment to let him suck and lick at it through the lace. The novel sensation made him shudder, but he had bigger ideas at work. He moved on, goosebumps of anticipation popping up as Stephen kissed his bare stomach and stabbed at his belly button with his tongue.

He had it timed almost perfect, could _almost_ reach the bottle of lube on the nightstand, when Stephen began mouthing his balls through the lace panties. He lost sight of his goal then, moaning and shuddering and curling in on himself, practically wrapping himself around Stephen’s head, greedy for _more._ Stephen sucked at him through the fabric, the tiny holes in the lace pinching at his skin in a hundred places at once.

“Oh fuck, Stephen, oh _fuck_ ,” he cried, bucking against that glorious, wonderful mouth.

The panties got tighter as he got harder, intensifying the teasing pinch of the fabric. The edges must have lifted away from his skin too, because suddenly Stephen’s tongue had found a way inside and was licking as much of him as he could reach. Near all but screamed, shaking with how damn _good_ that felt.

_Too_ good, and he was far from done with his plans. He wriggled reluctantly away, scrambling for the lube as soon as Stephen’s mouth released its hold on him.

Stephen was rock hard, even without being touched. Near loved him all the more for that, because he needed Stephen inside him _now_.

Stephen groaned as Near slicked the cool gel over his hot, hard flesh. His hips bucked up into Near’s hands a little despite his efforts to stay still.

“ _Please_ tell me I can move now, Near..,” he begged, thrashing his head from side to side and trembling all over.

“Just another moment, love,” Near promised him breathlessly.

He didn't bother taking the panties off, just pulled them aside to slather some of the lube on himself. He straddled Stephen’s hips, holding the panties out of the way with one hand while he lined up Stephen’s cock with the other. Stephen snapped out of his aroused daze then. He started to sit up without permission, concern written on his face.

“Near, baby, hold on, we didn’t even—”

“I prepped myself… before you came in the room..,” Near interrupted, panting. He teased himself a little, swirling Stephen’s tip around his hole. “Just… let me do this for you, Stephen…”

He eased himself down onto Stephen’s cock, moving slow despite his desperation. Even after all this time, as often as he’d had Stephen inside him, he still savored _this_ , the initial penetration, the feel of his body yielding and conforming to his love’s shape. When Stephen was fully seated inside him, they seemed to _click,_ like matching puzzle pieces fitting together. Like some part of him gone missing eons ago had found its way home at long last.

Near closed his eyes, smiling. “Now, love, _now_ you can move.”

Stephen groaned with relief, running his hands up Near’s thighs and hips and ribs as he began to ride him. He teased Near’s nipples through the lace top while he pulled up and sank down on his cock, fondled him through the panties when he gyrated his hips. Stephen’s hands eventually settled on those hips as he started bucking up to meet Near’s down-thrusts. Near swept white hair off his forehead where it stuck with sweat, moaning shamelessly as their rhythm built.

“ _Fuck_ , you feel so good… Amazing,” Stephen babbled. He bucked up again and hit Near’s prostate dead-on. Near fell forward onto his hands, shaking and gasping, rhythm lost to the pleasure of it.

“Good?” Stephen laughed, propping himself up to steal a kiss.

“Do that again,” Near moaned against his lips.

Stephen thrust up into him again, hit _that spot_ just right _again_ , and Near thought for sure he was about to lose his mind to it. He screamed and howled, but forced himself upright again so he could bounce harder.

He wasn't sure when Stephen had gotten hold of the lube, nor did he have the brainpower to fathom why he was squirting some into his hand until he yanked the panties down and started working Near’s cock with that hand.

He couldn't take anymore. With Stephen filling him, Stephen jerking him, and the pinchy sensation of his balls still trapped in lace between the two, Near was coming unraveled at the seams. His bouncing turned erratic, and he cried out in ecstasy as he came all over Stephen’s hand and stomach. Every muscle in his body spasmed and clenched with the force of his orgasm, and Stephen moaned right along with him. He gripped his hips and drove deep once more, his warmth flooding Near’s insides.

Stephen sat up to catch him before he could collapse. He let Near lean on his chest and catch his breath for a moment before easing himself out of Near’s body and laying him down on the mattress. He tugged the now uncomfortable panties off of him at last and tossed them away somewhere, then dotted Near’s face with little kisses.

“You okay, sweet love?” he asked, running his clean hand through Near's hair.

“Mhmm,” Near hummed sleepily. Stephen smiled and kissed his nose.

“Don't move, I'll be right back,” he said, scooting towards the edge of the mattress.

“Is that an order?” Near giggled.

“Only if it has to be,” Stephen said with a wink.

He hurried off to the bathroom and returned a minute later with a wet cloth to clean Near up with. Near let his eyes slip shut, enjoying the attention as Stephen smoothed the cool cloth over his skin, following behind it with warm hands. When he was done, he planted unexpected little kisses upon Near’s closed eyelids.

He left again to ditch the cloth in the bathroom, then went around the room blowing out the candles.

“Come back here,” Near whined, reaching his arms out.

“Fire hazards come before naps, sweetness.” While there was still some light left, he picked up his pants from the floor and dug his phone from the pocket.

“Now what?” Near mumbled grumpily.

“Setting an alarm, so we don't sleep right through Mello’s party,” Stephen laughed.

He set the phone aside, threw back the covers, and finally climbed into bed. Near rolled against him as he blew the last candle out – the one on the nightstand. The bedroom was cast in darkness but for the faint lights of the city and rising moon filtering in through the window curtains.

“No candles next time,” Near grumbled, snuggling against Stephen and greedily trying to touch as much skin as he could all at once. “Takes too long to blow them out.”

Stephen chuckled at that as he tucked the blankets around them. “That’s too bad, because you look incredible in the candlelight.”

Near lifted up, just a little, so he could try to see Stephen’s face. “You really liked it, then?”

“Of course I _liked_ it, couldn’t you tell?” Stephen grinned wide and toyed with the ribbon on Near’s nightie. “I was practically drooling on myself just looking at you.”

“Good,” Near said softly. He drew nervous little circles on Stephen’s chest with his finger. “It’s just that this was our first time being back here since… since the fight. I wanted it to be special.”

Suddenly Stephen rolled on top of Near, pinning him down with his warmth. In the scant moonlight, he could just barely make out the serious, adoring look on Stephen’s face.

“It _was_ special, sweetheart, just like you,” Stephen whispered, and dove down for a soft kiss. Near opened his mouth and let Stephen’s tongue swirl the last of his foolish worries away.

* * *

“I’m glad you guys could come,” Stephen said, hefting a diaper bag in one arm and a baby carrier in the other as he climbed the stairs.

“Of course,” said Kiyomi, coming up behind him with Misa in her arms. “We won’t be able to stay too late though, especially in the cold. I hope our host won’t mind moving up some of the festivities a bit early.”

“I get the impression Mello likes a party in any capacity,” Halle chuckled. She led the way, a sparkly blue gift bag in hand.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she pushed the door open against the wind and held it for the rest of them. Near brought up the rear as they emerged onto the roof of Mello's mid-rise apartment building, all decked out with tables and chairs and twinkling blue and white Christmas lights.

“Heyyy, the party’s here!” Matt announced from across the roof. He hurried over to help, taking the baby carrier off Stephen's hands.

“Be careful with that, or one of the supermoms will kill you,” Stephen advised him. Matt laughed it off, but held the thing carefully upright in both arms anyway.

Mello stopped fussing with the layout of the buffet table and came over to greet them too. He reached out for Near first, grabbing him in a quick hug.

“Welcome back, creampuff! How was the trip home?”

“Good,” Near said, smiling.

Mello grinned wolfishly at him. “Try out any of your presents yet?”

Near’s face immediately went red.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mello cackled. He left an arm slung around Near’s shoulders as he took stock of his other guests. Halle was the closest, so he waved to her. “Hey blondie!”

“Hey fellow blondie!” she snickered. “Nice to finally meet you in person. Here, brought you a host gift.”

Halle handed him the gift bag she was holding. He weighed it in his hand, a conflicted look on his face.

“If it’s booze, hate to tell ya, but the table’s fully stocked already.”

“I got the impression it would be,” she laughed.

Mello let go of Near so he could use both hands. He opened the bag just enough to peek inside – then his eyes went wide and he all but tore into it, pulling out a handful of expensive European chocolate bars.

“Holy hell, there’s gotta be like five pounds of this stuff in here,” Mello mumbled, rifling through the bag some more.

“Seven, actually,” Halle laughed. “I handled a liability case for their US distributor last year, and they pretty much gave me a golden ticket as thanks. I have an _obscene_ lifetime discount.”

“Hell-loooo new best friend!” Mello declared. Near poked him in the ribs, an exaggerated pout on his face. Mello grinned at him and ruffled his hair. “Don’t be a jealous cottonball, now. I got room in my heart for two.”

Halle laughed heartily. “So Mello, I hear you’re a hugger?”

“For those who can handle me,” he said with a smirk. “Wanna dance, lumberjack?”

“I wouldn’t challenge her if I were you,” Near warned him. Mello scoffed with mock offense.

“You actually think she hugs harder than me? No way, now I _gotta.”_

Mello shoved his bag of chocolate into Near’s hands and spread his arms wide. Halle got an evil glint in her eye and hugged him straight off the ground, swinging him around as he cursed and flailed.

“So anyway..,” Matt said, rolling his eyes at Mello's cries for help. “We got a wind shelter set up over here, since you said you were bringing a baby.”

“Oh, really? How sweet of you to do that,” Kiyomi said, smiling. Matt blushed at the compliment, and led the way to a section of the roof walled off with tarps and blankets. He stuck around to help Kiyomi set up Misa in her carrier, awkwardly introducing himself as he did. Everyone else converged on the spot to finally complete the introductions.

As their friends got acquainted, Near took Stephen's hand and tugged him to the roof’s edge to check out the view. They weren’t exactly towering over the city, but they had a clear vantage point to see the riverfront where the fireworks show would soon begin. A few isolated fireworks could already be seen popping up from the suburbs, miles away. The moon and stars were bright and clear in the sky; later, the smoke from the fireworks would probably drown them out, but they were lovely just now.

Stephen pulled Near close and kissed his temple.

“Can I get you a drink, sweetness?” Stephen mumbled against his hair. Near giggled at that, and turned his head up for a proper kiss.

“I could get my own, you know,” he mused, his lips ghosting over Stephen's as he spoke, unwilling to let them go.

“I insist,” Stephen whispered, and pressed their mouths together once more. They parted grinning, and Stephen kissed the tip of his nose for good measure.

“Be right back,” he said with a wink.

Stephen headed for the long buffet table, laden with finger foods, booze, and a huge punch bowl, while Near retreated to the wind shelter where most of the others were still gathered. Only Mello was left out of it, as he was grabbing some refreshments himself.

“Hey,” Stephen greeted him, snagging two plastic cups.

“Hey yourself,” Mello chuckled. He had a plate of snacks made up for himself, and was ladling punch into a cup. He offered Stephen the ladle when he was done, and stood by the table sipping at his cup while Stephen filled his and Near’s.

“So, has this stuff been spiked already, or..?”

“Nah, gotta add your own.”

“Cool.” Stephen picked up a couple of bottles before settling on a light rum. As he was about to add some to his cup, he realized something. He pointed at the cup Mello was still sipping from. “So wait, did you not..?”

Mello averted his eyes, looking embarrassed, which was something Stephen didn’t really think him capable of.

“I’m, uh… trying to cut back on the stuff,” he said quietly. “New Year’s resolution, I guess.”

“Oh,” Stephen said, putting the rum back down awkwardly. “If that’s the case, then maybe we shouldn't all be drinking around you…”

“No, _no,_ shit, drink all you want. The more you guys drink, the less is left sitting around in my apartment tomorrow, right?” Mello laughed hollowly.

“Right.” Stephen flashed him a half-smile and poured a shot’s worth of the rum in his and Near’s cups. Mello took a long look in the direction of his other guests, drink sloshing back and forth in his hand.

“So uh… about that _thing_ I said the other night, in the hotel lobby, you know… You didn't say anything to _him_ about..?”

“No,” Stephen cut him off. “I figured it wasn’t my place.”

Mello deflated with obvious relief. “Thank fuckin’ God.”

“For the record, though… I think _you_ should tell him.”

Mello quirked up an eyebrow. “What, you two just got back together, and you’re already lookin’ to bring in a third? You’re kinkier than I woulda thought, Gevanni.”

“I’m serious,” Stephen said, skirting Mello's obvious deflection.

Mello glared at him, but his voice came out mumbly and unsure. “Look, I’m sure he’s told you that we used to be…”

“Yeah, I know.” Stephen shifted, pulling his coat closed against the chill breeze. “Well, I know _his_ side of things anyway. I don't know _your_ side. Neither does he, it seems like. So..?”

Mello scanned the roof again, but nobody was nearby or really paying them any mind. Halle was chatting up Near and Matt sat beside Kiyomi, cooing over baby Misa and making silly faces at her through his goggles. Mello sighed and finally answered, though he refused to look Stephen in the eye for it.

“It was a fling. Or it was supposed to be, anyway.” Mello knocked back the last of his punch, then scowled at the empty cup and dropped his voice lower. “I started catching feelings, and I didn't know what they meant or what the fuck to do with ‘em, so I freaked out and started acting like an asshole and fucked everything up. That’s all.”

“And it took all this time to figure that out?” Stephen asked gently. He wasn't trying to be insulting, but Mello frowned anyway.

“Emotional intelligence ain’t exactly _his_ strong suit either, ya know,” he snarled defensively.

Stephen just smiled. The line sounded familiar. “Mine either, but we’re both getting better at it, I think. You are too, from the sound of it. And you and Near probably owe a lot of that to each other.”

“Matt, too,” Mello quietly added. “He’s helped me figure out a lot of my shit lately.”

“That’s good, really good.” Stephen shuffled his feet, thinking how to word things without upsetting Mello. Near really deserved more credit for being able to navigate Mello's moods as well as he did. “So, I guess my point is… you both learned from the experience, right? You’ve both grown from it, even if that took a while to happen. So it shouldn’t have to be this secret point of pain anymore, you know?”

“What are you, my shrink now?” Mello turned away from him, refilling his cup from the punch bowl, probably more as a distraction than anything.

“I’m just saying, the two of you should hash it out, talk about whatever leftover feelings there might be. He loves you, Mello – not in _that_ way, you know, but… he _does_. I’m sure of it. And he wouldn’t want you carrying around a burden like that forever. Hell, neither do I.”

Mello swirled his incredibly _un_ -spiked cup of punch around, and took a slow, thoughtful sip of it, staying surprisingly quiet.

“Besides, after all we’ve been through… I don't want to be keeping secrets from him. Even if it’s someone else’s secrets,” Stephen said softly.

Mello sighed dramatically. “Shit. Guess that’s resolution number two, then: airing out the dirty laundry.”

“I can come along to help mediate, if you want.”

Mello downed the punch and slammed the little plastic cup down on the buffet table, then pointed a finger in Stephen's face.

“I’ll talk to him _myself_ , all right? Not _tonight_ , but I’ll _do_ it. So until then—”

“I’ll get off your back about it and keep my mouth shut,” Stephen finished for him, smirking.

“Damn straight,” Mello concluded, backing down like he’d won. Stephen didn’t argue. He was starting to learn that, with Mello, it was better to let him win.

“Mello, are you threatening my boyfriend again?” Near called out, heading towards them. He clutched his scarf tight around his throat as a chill wind blew across the roof.

“Again? Who says I threatened him before?” Mello challenged, jutting a hip out.

“ _He_ does,” Near said, rolling his eyes. Mello glared up at Stephen.

“What? In hindsight I thought it was a cute threat,” Stephen laughed.

“My threats are not _cute,”_ Mello snarled. Near sighed and slipped an arm around Mello’s ribs, hugging his side loosely.

“No, of course not. They are valiant, noble threats,” Near said in a flat tone, a wry little smile tugging at a corner of his mouth.

“Damn right,” Mello grumbled indignantly, throwing an arm around his shoulders to hug him back. He paused to look Near over curiously. “You get a new coat?”

Near let a real smile loose then. “It was a gift.”

Mello suddenly started laughing. “It’s all beige. You really _do_ look like a creampuff now.”

“I… definitely was not thinking about that,” Stephen mumbled. Mello shot him a smirk.

“I like it though. Looks good on you,” he declared.

“Thank you,” Near chuckled. “Now where’s that drink, Stephen? It’s cold up here, I want the false sense of warmth.”

“Well in that case…” Stephen unscrewed the lid of the rum again, adding a bit more to Near’s cup before he handed it over to him.

“Yo, bartender, fill me up too so we can have a toast,” Mello said, nudging his empty cup over. When Stephen obliged, handing him back a cup of plain punch, Near raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

Naturally, Mello was first to hold his cup up in the air and take the lead. “To keeping our damned resolutions.”

Stephen smiled. “To new beginnings.”

Near held up his cup to meet theirs. “To love, in all its forms.”

“Good one, creampuff,” Mello said, squeezing Near’s shoulder. He held his cup a bit higher and loudly declared, “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year!” the others echoed, knocking cups.

* * *

After their toast, the wind began to pick up, so the three of them took their drinks and retreated to the wind shelter with the others. Halle grabbed Stephen's arm when they got there.

“So hey, did you tell him yet?” she asked excitedly, nodding her head toward Near. Stephen frowned at the question.

“Tell me what?” Near looked worriedly between the two of them.

“I was gonna wait ‘til I knew for sure, Halle,” Stephen muttered.

“Too late, we’re totally telling him,” Halle declared, grinning. “And by we, I mean I will announce it myself if you’re too chicken.”

“Announce what? Tell us!” Mello exclaimed, bouncing in place. Halle pulled him aside, a shushing finger over her lips, to give Stephen and Near some room.

Stephen took Near’s hand and tried to focus on him, rather than the captive audience around them.

“Well, I've uh.. I've been talking to Halle about this for a while now, actually..,” he began sheepishly, squeezing Near’s fingers. “See, when I went to her place on Thanksgiving, she was telling me during dinner that a permanent position had opened up at the SPK branch office downtown, and…”

“Downtown, as in _here?”_ Near asked, a hopeful little smile stealing onto his face. Stephen couldn’t help mirroring it.

“Yeah. And I wasn't entirely sure about it then, but she and I have been sort of covertly texting back and forth about it for the past few days, and… I've decided to go for it.”

“And I've already put in a good word for him,” Halle cut in. “He's got an interview Monday morning.”

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Matt piped up.

“So that means… you really wouldn’t have to move anymore?” Near said softly, his eyes twinkling with the lights around them.

Stephen felt lightheaded and giddy, though he’d had only a sip of his drink. He let go of Near’s hand so he could cup his face instead.

“That’s the idea, sweetness,” he said, smiling. “I mean, you’re here, my best friend is here as well as yours… Seems like the ideal place for me to finally settle down, don’t you think?”

Near just smiled serenely, nodding against Stephen’s palm. Stephen’s heart swelled, and he realized there was one last thing he needed to ask Near about – no sense in waiting, at this point. Stephen took both their drinks and set them aside so he could take both of Near’s hands in his.

“And listen, I… Whether I get this job or not, I want you with me, Near,” he said seriously. Near blinked up at him.

“Are.. are you asking me to live with you?”

Stephen nodded. “And I know it’s a lot to ask, because if I _don’t_ get it, then I’m going to have to keep moving us around all the time…”

Near’s face broke out in a wide grin. “I don’t care. My answer is yes.”

He threw his arms around Stephen’s neck, standing on tiptoe to hug him tight. Stephen held him even tighter, so he’d be sure to feel it even through the thick coat. Happy tears pricked at the backs of his eyes. He only loosened his grip when the cheers and clapping reminded him that they had an audience.

Blushing like a teenager, he pulled Near onto a bench seat with him so they wouldn’t be so front and center. Near seemed beyond caring, though. He shamelessly opened both their coats up so he could press himself against Stephen’s chest and share his body heat, his arms linked around Stephen’s waist under his coat. He didn't even react when Mello snickered at their lovey-dovey actions.

Mello didn't have much room to make fun, though, as Matt immediately came up behind him to hug his waist. He laid his chin on Mello’s shoulder, wearing a softer smile than usual, and no goggles – they’d ended up in baby Misa’s grabby hands at some point.

“Hey, ya know, maybe someday _we_ could…”

Mello cut him off with a snort. “I’m not living in a damn arcade, Matt.”

“Right, right. But uh.. Maybe with some compromises..?”

Mello’s face contorted with a smile he was clearly trying to fight off. He bumped Matt with his hip. “We’ll see.”

Matt straightened up, his face suddenly serious. He tugged Mello around by the waist until they faced each other.

“I really would like to,” Matt said quietly. He leaned in to give Mello a brief, tender kiss, and came away with a nervous smile. “I love you, Mello.”

Suddenly all eyes were on them. Halle grasped Kiyomi’s hand, grinning.

Mello just blinked, looking equally shocked and confused. “A-are you serious?”

“Course I am.” Matt grinned and gestured in a circle around his face. “This is my serious face, can’t you tell?”

“That’s your _regular_ face, dingbat,” Mello muttered, but he was blushing, and there was no real bite to the comeback.

“It’s a highly practical, multipurpose face!” Matt insisted. Mello still looked bewildered though, and Matt's grin fell. He awkwardly bumped Mello’s hand with his own.

“You don't have to say it back, Mels..,” Matt told him softly. “It’s okay, really.”

At that, Mello’s eyes snapped up from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at.

“Well, wait, just… _hang on_ a damn minute, will ya?” Mello said indignantly. “Maybe.. maybe I _want_ to say it back.”

Matt’s hopeful grin was back in an instant. “Yeah?”

Mello crossed his arms, striking a defiant pose. _“Yeah.”_

The two of them _didn't_ say anything more, though, just stood staring at each other in silence. Everyone around them awkwardly kept quiet as well, until Near sat up a little and cleared his throat. Mello whipped around at the noise, his face grown redder again.

“Shut your face, Near, I’m workin’ up to it!” he snapped.

Near just shrugged, an innocent little smile on his face, and sank back against Stephen again.

Mello huffed. He grabbed a fistful of Matt's shirt and hauled him forward, cutting off Matt's surprised yelp with a rough kiss. In the background, Halle wolf-whistled and hooted in approval, Kiyomi giggling and clapping along with her.

By the time Mello let him go, Matt's eyes were glazed over and he was gasping for air.

“Holy.. _wow,”_ Matt said, a dopey grin overtaking his face. But then Mello cradled his face in both hands, and they both turned serious again.

“I _do_ love you,” Mello said quietly, his thumbs rubbing Matt's cheeks. “But you’re still a complete jackass for doing this when we’ve got a fuckin’ audience.”

“Good thing your bedroom is full of shit you can use to punish me with, huh?” Matt laughed, bouncing in place and grinning his ass off. Mello tugged at Matt’s hair to still his bouncing, and flashed his teeth in the most wolfish of all his signature wolfish grins.

“You givin’ me permission to tie you up and torture you, lover-boy?” Mello laughed dangerously.

“You know, on second thought, a good old fashioned spanking goes a _long_ way..,” Matt backtracked. Both Mello’s expression and his grip on Matt turned soft.

“Dork,” Mello chuckled. He let Matt pull him into a gentle kiss amidst the cheering of their friends.

* * *

As soon as their coats were hung, just inside the door of Stephen's apartment, he grabbed Near around the waist and pulled him close, letting their noses touch. Holding Near in his arms like this, Stephen felt whole.

“Hi honey, we’re home,” he said softly, and pressed his lips to Near’s. Near pressed right back, his hands caressing Stephen’s face, and kissed his mouth open just enough to let their tongue-tips mingle.

Stephen grinned as they parted, rubbing bashfully at the back of his neck. “That was way too cheesy, wasn’t it?”

Near laughed – just a little _hmph_ of a laugh – and pulled Stephen down to his level again.

“It was exactly cheesy enough,” Near assured him, sealing his judgement with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! <3
> 
> This fic is very dear to me, and actually calling it finished is kind of bittersweet. There are bits of my soul sprinkled all through this story, and writing it helped get me through some hella depression at the end of the year (2019 was pretty horrible from start to finish, tbqh). Really, yay for catharsis. Apparently writing porn is good for the soul, even for an ace like me, as unintuitive as that seems, lollllll.
> 
> …and the stuff that’s not porn is so damn sappy that it also totally counts as porn. It’s too indulgent to be classed as anything else. Feelings-porn for life! XD
> 
> Seriously though THANK YOU to anybody who took the time to read all the way through this odd little love story of mine. I truly hope you enjoyed it, and that it brightened your day somehow. Happy New Year to all of us! <3 (uhhhhh also valentine’s at this point lol)
> 
> Now get out there and write yourselves some soul porn, y’all. ;P


End file.
